Wizard for Hire
by Dark-Syaoran
Summary: Do you have a problem that needs fixing? Who better to call than Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world?
1. Chapter 1

The pub was a hive of activity on this early Friday evening, with smoke curling high amongst the rafters. Every seat was taken, every table occupied with patrons; yet more still continued to stream in by the dozen, undeterred by the crowd. Beyond the door that led to muggle London, Harry spied the relentless downpour that had enveloped the entire countryside for the past fortnight. The rain was seemingly never ending, the winds howling in their intensity and only the careful placement of charms kept the water from encroaching any further than the doorframe.

Wizards and witches alike lined up at the bar, eager to let down their hair after a week of work. Tom was in constant motion, hands and wand moving with practiced precision. Chatter blended together in a dull rumble, everything from politics to sport making the rounds as the roaring fireplace only added to the genuinely friendly atmosphere. Pints of mead and bottles of hard liquor floated above head, moving quickly to their destinations, much to the pleasure of the paying customers. Even a group of Hags occupying the back corner looked to be enjoying themselves now that they were indoors, away from the cold, wet winter of the British Isles.

Harry would feel similarly content, if not for the fact that he was alone; alone when he shouldn't be.

Someone was _late_.

Nursing his third glass of fire-whiskey, he idly took a sip as he counted the minutes he had been forced to wait beyond the agreed upon time.

Seventeen.

He was not amused.

A copy of the Daily Prophet lay discarded before him, his very face occupying the front page of the national wizarding newspaper. The moving photograph captured him perfectly, surrounded by a gaggle of reporters as he was leaving the Ministry for Magic the day before. In bold lettering above the photo, it read, "Boy-Who-Lived Quits Ministry."

It had caused quite the uproar; and not only with the public.

Hermione had _not_ been impressed. Unfortunately for her, that meant little to Harry at the moment.

It had been five years since the death of Lord Voldemort and four since he had joined the Ministry as an Auror. In those early days, things had still been relatively hectic and the Ministry had needed all the help they could get. While most of Riddle's Death Eaters had been caught during and right after the battle that had raged on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, many had also eluded the authorities. Dark wizards on the run aside, they also had to deal with giants, dementors, and dozens of people claiming they had been under the Imperius Curse.

The clean up had lasted years. Weeding out the corrupt bigots had probably been the most difficult, the ones who kept their heads down after the collapse of Voldemort's reign. Even today, there was no guarantee that they had all been removed, but with Kingsley Shacklebolt now Minister for Magic, the future was looking brighter each day.

And just last month, the last confirmed Death Eater had been captured and imprisoned at Azkaban. After that, Harry had felt that his work at the Ministry had been complete.

After getting all his affairs in order, he had promptly handed in his resignation.

People all over had been baffled by the move, including those closest to him. Hadn't he always wanted to be an Auror? He was practically born for such a job; a dark wizard catcher, cleaning up the world one spell at a time. Harry was the first to admit that he had a 'saving people thing', as Hermione had put it once, and he had plenty of motivation for a job that allowed him to see such vile human beings put behind bars. His entire life had been shaped by perhaps the most sadistic, psychotic Dark Lord of the past thousand years, so it was almost fated that he would take up such a cause within the Ministry.

However, Harry was sick of fate. He had only ever chosen to become an Auror because of the situation at the time. It was a smart choice, all things considered, and really, he hadn't really considered his career after Hogwarts in those days. In those days, he hadn't been sure he would even see the end of his schooling to begin with. And really, after everything he had been through, he felt like doing his own thing for once, on his own terms.

The next chapter of his life was about to begin.

And that is why he was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, alone, waiting. But not for much longer.

Harry watched as a thin, balding man entered from the Diagon Alley entrance, blue robes completely soaked through from the horrendous downpour. The man looked startled at the amount of people, before his wide eyes moved back and forth, searching. Harry raised a hand, waving him over a tad impatiently.

"You're late," Harry said as the man nervously sat opposite him. He flinched when Harry raised his wand, only to blink in surprise when his soggy robes dried out with barely a wave.

"Thanks," he muttered, flushing slightly.

"No problem. So... why were you late, Sam?" he asked, pocketing his wand and taking another sip of his drink.

The man sighed. "Goblins held me up at the bank. They didn't like the fact that I was closing my account and withdrawing all my money."

Harry nodded. He could see that, greedy little buggers that they were. Greedy little buggers that weren't too keen on Harry these days – not after he broke into Gringotts and then successfully escaped, stealing a dragon in the process. He suspected that the only reason he was still allowed a vault in their bank and they hadn't tried to take his gold was because of that very fact. It wasn't common knowledge – only a select few wizards knew about it, two of whom had been with him at the time – and they feared this information getting out. It had been bad enough when Quirrell had done the same during his first year, but he hadn't taken anything because Hagrid had already removed it, something the goblins had taken great lengths to ensure that everyone knew. Two break-ins in seven years, and this time something had been taken?

Oh yeah. Harry found himself in a unique position. He had leverage over the goblins of Gringotts.

It wasn't as good as it sounded. He had enough enemies as it was.

"Got the deed?"

Sam – or rather, Samuel – reached into his robes and removed a roll of parchment. Smoothing it out on the table, he turned it towards Harry for his viewing. Placing his glass down and leaning forward, he scanned it quickly, before nodding, satisfied. A quill appeared in his hand with a mild flick of his wrist, and a small inkwell settled on the table in the same manner, causing the older man to gape slightly in shock.

Harry signed the scroll with a flourish, before vanishing both quill and inkwell without a thought. His signature sat next to Samuel's own in glistening black.

"There you go and," reaching into his pockets, he retrieved a bulging leather pouch. He dropped it between them with a heavy clank. "There is your money."

Samuel pulled the pouch open and peered at the pile of galleons inside.

"You can count them, if you want."

He shook his head, pocketing the money swiftly. "No, no. I trust you, Mister Potter."

"Harry, please."

They sat in silence for a moment, Harry finishing his drink in the meantime.

"Would you like one?" he offered, inclining the glass slightly for emphasis.

Samuel shook his head. "No, I better get going. I have a long trip ahead of me."

"Australia, right?" Harry inquired.

"Yeah."

They stood up and shook hands.

"It was good doing business with you." Harry said.

Samuel turned, ready to leave, and then hesitated. "If you don't mind... what are you going to do with that place, anyway?"

Harry briefly glanced down at the roll of parchment still on the table. As of this moment, he was now the official owner of a property in Hogsmeade.

He then smiled at the older man. "Oh, I don't know. I have a few things in mind."

The weather wasn't much better in Scotland, Harry would soon find out. After paying the barkeep, Harry had quickly and quietly left the packed bar, vanishing with nary a sound and reappearing shin high in snow. The temperature was beyond frosty, frigid or freezing, and only the swift application of a heating charm prevented the young wizard from becoming an ice block. Even still, he pulled his robe tighter around his body as he moved, slowly making his way down the main street of Hogsmeade. All the stores were closed for the night, the only sound coming from the creaking pines and the few wizarding pubs just off the way.

They were probably just as busy as the Leaky Cauldron, and he made a note of visiting Aberforth Dumbledore sometime in the coming week. It had been awhile since he had visited the brother of his late mentor.

It wasn't long before he came to a stop in front of a rather large house, perhaps one of the last true houses that remained on High Street. It was fairly large, built of dark, strong wood, and had two floors. The front alone had four windows, two on each side of the door and two above, an old brick chimney running up the outer wall on the right hand side. Because of the location, there was no front yard at all, and Harry knew that there was very little, if any room at the back either.

He approached the door, tapping the door handle with his wand. With a soft creak, the door swung open to reveal a large room and Harry stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Unable to see much in the dark, he gave his wand a light flick and several candles lit with a small whoosh, casting a warm glow upon the hardwood floors. Nearly the entire first floor was a single room, the staircase to the upper level situated in the back left-hand corner. Only two other doors were present, one which lead outside to the back, and one that lead to the kitchen on the right. All the bedrooms were upstairs, as was the bathroom.

Perfect.

A few pieces of furniture remained, things that Samuel and his family no longer wanted. A chair here, a desk there; nothing of importance, but things he could use. The chair looked especially comfortable, with a high back and plush upholstery. Everything was spotless, having been cleaned recently, and all it needed was Harry's personal belongings to make it complete.

Giving his wand a twirl, a large sack appeared with a pop, thumping against the floor where it landed haphazardly. A few more flicks and the sack opened, miniature sized chairs, tables, beds and all floating out in single file, like some sort of demented conga line. Then they began expanding, returning to their original form, until the room was filled with everything he needed.

His bed began making its own way upstairs, while the filing cabinets he had purchased the day before settled down in a corner. His set of drawers joined his bed, as well as his trunk and a group of suitcases containing all his clothing. A coat rack walked over and plunked itself down next to the front door, and the chair and desk left behind by the previous owners carefully manoeuvred towards the centre of the room, with another chair setting down on the opposite side. A few paintings stuck themselves to the walls with permanent sticking charms, including one particular portrait he had brought over from Grimmauld Place.

Phineas Nigellus Black peered down at Harry in annoyance.

"So this is where you have brought me, hm?"

A couple of rugs unrolled and found places to lie down, and his kitchenware marched like a small platoon into the kitchen, lead by a rather burly spatula.

The quirks of magic never ceased to amaze him.

"I'm talking to you, Potter."

"Sorry," Harry answered, nodding at the former headmaster of Hogwarts. This seemed to appease the man – at least a little bit. "I thought you'd like a change of scenery, you know – like the old days, travelling around the country with us, hunting Horcruxes-"

"You kept me in a bag! A bag!" the portrait interrupted, glaring at Harry.

"Oh," Harry paused. "Right."

They stared at each other in silence.

"Why am I here?"

Harry shrugged. "I need someone to watch the place when I'm out."

"I am Phineas Nigellus Black, former headmaster of Hogwarts – I am no ones watchdog!"

Harry shrugged again. "Can you honestly tell me you'd rather stay at Grimmauld Place?"

The portrait looked like it wanted to say something, yet could not find the words.

"I know you can travel to Hogwarts and all," Harry continued. "But wouldn't you rather have a place you can come to with a little life? Must get boring, even in the headmasters office. Professor McGonagall still teaches, after all – I bet she is hardly even there."

Phineas grunted. "Fine – I'll watch your... new home."

"New place is upstairs," he replied, pointing up. "This here is my... office?"

That garnered a sneer. "You sound unsure, boy! Hah! What is it that you are doing, exactly?"

Harry pulled out a small card and held it up to the painting. It was white and rather unremarkable, his full name and the words 'Wizard for Hire' were imprinted dead-centre in emerald ink. On the back in the same colour ink was the current address, as well as business hours.

"...is this a joke?"

Harry rolled his eyes, pocketing the card. "I'll be taking clients here in this room, so you better be good. If not, I'll gag you."

He looked particularly incensed at that remark, but settled for leaving the frame instead of replying.

"Oh you big baby,"

After a little more interior design, he decided to call it a night. Making his way up stairs, he quickly found the master bedroom. All his things were in perfect order and he briefly admired the large room. It was much bigger than anything he had ever claimed as his own at the Dursley's, and bigger still than his corner of the dorm room at Hogwarts. His room at the Noble House of Black came closest, yet still fell behind in general space. Even with the king-size bed, some bedside tables and a large drawer, it still felt relatively bare. He was really starting to like this place.

Shrugging off his robe and removing his underclothes, he got dressed in a pair of blue woollen pyjamas with moving golden stars. His fallen robe and clothes slithered their way into a wicker basket down the hall after a flick of his wand. Settling into bed, he pulled on a matching bed cap and extinguished the light throughout the entire house, complete darkness enveloping him. Removing his glasses, he placed them and his wand on the small wooden table to his left before rolling over to get comfortable.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

-x-**X**-x-

**Authors Note: **Rather short chapter to start off with; they will get longer with each new release. This story will be fairly light hearted with darker moments thrown in, but mostly non-serious antics. Been writing scenes for this story for awhile now and mainly using it to shake any writing rust. I intend to get back onto Fictional at some point, but feel like writing a pure Harry Potter story for the moment. Anyway, not much in the way of interesting stuff happens in this chapter, just some explanations of what is going on in the world and setting the groundwork. If you want to read ahead a little, I've posted several pieces of this story over at DarkLordPotter, but they aren't in chronological order – nor are they guaranteed to make it into the story, as things change constantly in my head. Still, it might be worth a look if you're bored. They are in the Work by Author section and you can't access that without an account.


	2. Chapter 2

Luna Lovegood had been but a wisp of a girl, and even as a woman she was still quite tiny. Another thing that hadn't changed was her odd fashion sense that put even the most reclusive wizards to shame, and yet seemed to work on the petite witch. Radish earrings had been replaced in recent years with deep red snail shells, but she still retained her butterbeer cap necklace from school. Her hair was as wavy and tussled as ever, but longer – and soon, Harry reckoned, she would require a braid least she tangle her legs and trip while she walked. As usual, her wand was tucked behind her ear carelessly, and if Alastor Moody were still alive and saw that, he would have a fit. Something else that hadn't changed was the almost permanent look of surprise she wore, something that was even more pronounced when she was genuinely shocked.

Like now.

Wide eyes stared up at the sign that hung above the door. She wasn't the only one, with several early risers casting curious looks at the new sign that hadn't been there the day before. It had stopped snowing sometime during the night, but the temperature hadn't improved at all, so most didn't do more than gawk for a few moments before moving on to their destination. The hour was early and most hadn't even had a warm, hearty English breakfast yet. New and exciting neighbours could wait.

Above the door, it read 'Wizard for Hire' arched in loopy script, with a golden lightning bolt painted neatly underneath.

"You like that, huh?"

Luna blinked at the voice, and then smiled warmly at her best friend in the world. Harry stood in the doorway, an equally wide smile adorning his face. Perhaps, for the first time in their short lives, he looked even odder than his friend – dressed in a pink, fluffy bathrobe and still wearing his bed cap. The robe had been a gift from Hermione when she had visited some hotel in the United States and brought back some souvenirs. Harry had become particularly attached to it over the years. Even without charms, it was incredibly warm and comfortable to wear.

"I do," she replied, earnestly. She clapped her hands together in excitement, her face practically glowing from the cold and her good mood. "If you ever need any help, do not hesitate to send a letter."

Harry led her inside, where they both seated themselves at his desk. He watched as she looked around with fascination. A few bookcases had been added since the night before, filled with odds and ends that instantly attracted the strange girl's attention. Most of them were simple trinkets that Harry had picked up on various jobs as an Auror, while some of them belonged to Albus Dumbledore. Harry was pretty sure that those ones had been the very same ones he had smashed during his fifth year at Hogwarts in a fit of rage. What they all had in common was their rarity, but most were largely useless due to their age – spells had come a long way and a lot of the functions that those objects preformed could now be done much easier with spells.

A few of them, though, were very useful.

"Funny you should say that, actually."

Luna grinned at her celebrity friend. "I think I might have an idea about what you want."

"Oh?"

"I was surprised when you fire called, but once I saw the sign, everything made sense," she pinned him with an amused look. One thing that had changed was she was much more playful than she used to be, probably on the account of being more comfortable with her small group of friends. "You want to run an advert in the Quibbler, right?"

_Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure,_ Harry thought, once again reminded why Luna had been a Ravenclaw and not a Gryffindor, Slytherin or Hufflepuff. Luna was a lot of things, but stupid was _not_ one of them.

"You are too smart for your own good, you know that?"

"Only for my own good? Oh my, I must be slipping," she answered with a serious face, but Harry saw the small tweak of her lips that belayed any seriousness at all.

Opening one of the desk drawers, he pulled out a thin folder and passed it over to her. It contained everything she would need to run the advert.

"Oh goody," she said, flipping through the papers within. "Are you putting an ad in the Daily Prophet as well?"

Harry frowned. It would be the smart thing to do, there was no denying that. It was the most read wizarding newspaper in the British Isles and if he wanted to reach as many potential clients as possible, then putting one in the Daily Prophet was practically a given.

"Not yet," he answered, and Luna noticed his frown for the first time. "I'd rather keep it a Quibbler exclusive for the moment."

Luna nodded, seemingly understanding. And she probably did.

It was no secret that Harry had had major issues with the publication for years. Rita Skeeter was most of the problem, but not all of it. Plenty of other reporters had run slanderous articles over the years, even if they had been pretty infrequent since Voldemort's death. It wasn't wise to pick a fight with the saviour of the wizarding world, after all. Ginny Weasley also worked for the prophet, and was someone that Harry didn't feel like dealing with for the foreseeable future. Their break-up had been particularly messy, and once again, the prophet had played its part in that little fiasco like always. The life of a wizard saviour was never private.

Especially when they thought scandal was afoot.

Due to the malicious meddling of a certain wizard, some fake photographs, poor journalism and personal insecurity, their relationship had crumbled to dust. While Harry had been torn about it at first, he found it surprisingly easy to move on. It was the people around him that had trouble accepting it was over. Molly Weasley, in particular – bless her soul. Arthur was much more understanding about the situation.

"I'm going to hang out some fliers, as well," he added, pulling out his wand and giving it a wave. A stack of paper appeared on the desk with a pop. "Do you mind hanging a few in Diagon Alley on the way to the office?"

Luna nodded happily. "Of course, Harry."

"So," he said, smiling slightly. "I heard you submitted a paper to the ministry about the existence of nargles. Congratulations."

She practically beamed at him.

After a few more minutes of idle chat, Luna left with the stack of papers and a content smile. Harry, too, was smiling as he entered the kitchen. For some reason, a conversation with Luna always made him feel more at ease with the world. She was a calming influence in his life, and had been ever since the death of his godfather.

Quietly, he made himself some toast while planning his day. He had to visit the Ministry briefly to fully connect the fireplace to the Floo Network. The previous owners only had it hooked up partially, so only fire calls were permitted and not travel. It was the reason why he had been able to contact Luna through the fireplace, but she couldn't come through. Hopefully, it would take ten minutes – twenty, tops. After that, he would probably visit Ron. He hadn't seen the redhead since his last day of work and his friend was probably copping it from Hermione, whom Harry knew had a tendency to rant when upset.

Upset was a bit of an understatement after Harry had told the witch of his plans.

After that, he would put up as many fliers as humanly possible. The Ministry sounded like a good start. Kill two birds with one spell.

After a brief shower, he got dressed in a simple black robe and apparated directly into the Ministry atrium. He appeared next to a nervous looking witch, who jumped about ten feet at his sudden appearance, something he secretly found amusing. People were streaming in from the fireplaces that lined both sides of the chamber, green flashes lighting up the large room like some sort of muggle night club. Harry stared at the Fountain of Magical Brethren for a moment, before lining up at the security desk at the far end of the hall. It didn't take long for people to notice his presence, and shorter still for Harry to grow tired of their pointing and whispers.

Eric Munch no longer manned the security desk as he had in Harry's youth. The man had been a half-blood, and thus killed when Voldemort had taken full control of the Ministry. Apparently, the man had not gone quietly – taking out over half a dozen of Voldemort's men before he was struck down. A witch now sat behind the desk, filling the position of watchwizard. She was young, probably fresh out of Hogwarts and quite attractive. Or she would be, if she didn't look so bored. She idly played with her blonde hair as she checked wands, listing their components dully. She'd only been with the Ministry for a few months and already looked ready to quit. Since Munch, they hadn't been able to find a permanent replacement – they all seemed to leave within the year, swearing never to return.

Maybe the position was cursed. He doubted very much that Tom Riddle had applied for the position in the past, but anything was possible.

She perked up slightly when he approached, smiling at him cheerfully as his wand was weighed. She looked surprised at his sudden appearance. He had quit his job at the Ministry, after all. He nodded at her and he was amused to note that her ears went red. Retrieving his wand, he continued on towards the elevator after a quick wave. The doors banged open and he stepped inside swiftly, joining two witches and a wizard inside who were in deep conversation.

"Did you hear about that boy out in Kent?" the shorter witch began, as the doors clanged shut. It appeared that she didn't mind if he heard their conversation. Harry pressed the button for level six. The elevator began to move. Her voice was raspy, giving the impression she was a heavy smoker.

The wizard nodded rapidly, moustache twitching. His bowler hat nearly flew from his head as he replied, forcing the wizard to pat it down with one hand. "Yes, yes, I believe so – terrible, terrible thing. They still don't know what happened. I was talking to one of the Auror's on the case. They think it's an accident."

"A freak accident?" the other witch piped up. Her robes were immaculate and Harry knew she was not a worker, but likely a visitor – and a pure-blood at that. She came from money, at any rate. The gorgeous gems dangling from her ears only proved it. "My cousin is a friend of the family – a permanent sticking charm failed! Failed! Hah! They don't simply fail. No, something else is going on."

The first witch looked surprised. "Come now – surely you don't think there is a cover up-"

"And why not?"

Harry frowned. It sounded like it was very recent – within the last two days, at least – as he hadn't heard anything about it. He wondered if Ron knew anything about this.

One by one, they left – until he was left alone.

"Level six," a cool, female voice announced. "Department of Magical Transportation. Have a nice day."

Stepping out, Harry made his way down the hall at a swift pace, careful to avoid a flock of charmed paper aeroplanes that soared towards the now empty elevator. He'd seen a few workers nearly lose an eye in his time. He continued until he reached the door at the end. Above it read 'Floo Network Authority' in bold letters.

Hopefully, there wasn't a line.

Pulling open the door, he sighed.

There was a line.

-x-**X**-x-

"Three bloody hours," Harry grumbled, accepting the sandwich thrust at his face. He was seated in a small cubicle, quite similar to the one he had spent the last few years working in himself. Aurors had a lot of things, but space was not one of them. The walls were covered in various reports, all pinned up haphazardly in typical Weasley fashion. There was everything from assaults to simple home invasions, drug trafficking to kidnapping, and everything else in between. While Auror's were mainly used for the capture of dark wizards, they typically got involved in any crime that involved any sort of dark magic. Be it a spell used or perhaps a cursed object, they were the first ones called.

Ronald Weasley chuckled at his annoyed friend, handing over a few sickles to the portly old lunch lady. The witch grunted, wheeling her trolley away as Ron took a seat behind his desk. He then unwrapped his own sandwich and immediately stuffed half of it in his mouth, chewing loudly.

Harry followed him at a much more dignified pace, taking a small bite like an ordinary person.

"Three hours," he repeated. "Just to see someone – and then another thirty minutes to set up the floo! Why the hell does it take that long when I've already got a partial connection, anyway? I was hoping to be out of here by ten. No such luck."

He really should have made an appointment, instead.

"So," he smiled at Ron, annoyance seemingly forgotten. Ron was momentarily thrown by his change of mood. "How's Hermione?"

Ron glared at his friend.

"That bad, huh?"

"She isn't so angry anymore," Ron admitted. "She just won't shut up about how you are throwing away your life. It's starting to wear on the nerves, mate."

Harry hummed. "Well, you married her."

"You'd think you were her husband, with how she's going on."

It showed how far Ron had come over the years, if he could say such a thing without even a hint of a jealous undertone. Harry remembered what the locket Horcrux had shown his friend, all those years ago. It was hard to forget. If Ron still harboured any insecurity about Harry and Hermione and the closeness of their relationship, it was buried very deep.

"She'll get over it," Harry said, shrugging. Then he paused, taking another small bite of his lunch. "I think."

Finishing off their lunch, Harry withdrew his wand. A stack of paper appeared on Ron's desk, identical to the stack he had handed over to Luna earlier that morning.

"Could you hang these up when you get a chance?"

Ron leaned forward, reading the one on top. "Sure thing."

Harry stood, brushing himself off. "Well, I better get going – you have work to do." He smirked slightly at his friend.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, yeah."

"Oh, hey," Harry said, pausing by the exit. He turned back towards Ron. "I heard something about some boy dying, out in Kent – you working that case?"

Ron shook his head. "Nah, not me. Trilly is – I was talking to him about it yesterday. A right strange one, that case is."

"How'd he die?"

Harry blinked at the sudden look of apprehension on Ron's face. "It was kinda creepy, mate – the parents have a full potions lab, pretty well stocked from what I've heard. The shelves were held up by a permanent sticking charm. Well, the charm failed and everything crashed to the floor, mixing the ingredients. He was..."

Harry noted that he looked a little ill.

"Not pretty, I take it?"

Ron nodded slowly. "The explosion... let's just say he was found in several places at once. He was only ten."

"...damn."

"Yeah."

They remained silent for a moment. Permanent sticking charms were called that for a reason – they were permanent. They could be removed with the right spells, but even then it wasn't easy, or guaranteed. There was a reason why the portrait of Walburga Black still resided at Grimmauld Place. Even Harry hadn't been able to remove the bloody thing. Maybe if he still had the Elder Wand...

"Worse still, his parents have already lost a kid – an older brother. He actually went to Hogwarts with us, a few years down, in Hufflepuff." Ron shook his head in disbelief. "He died a few years ago. Remember that seventh year they held that memorial for at Hogwarts? That was him – drowned in the bath over Christmas break. I swear, that house is cursed."

Harry nodded. Losing one son must be hard enough, but losing two?

It was something Harry couldn't understand. Nor did he want to.

Lily Potter's face briefly entered his mind. His mother had given her life in exchange for his, without hesitation. He wondered if that is what they thought about now. Wishing they could swap places with their children.

"This day has gotten awfully depressing," he remarked. "I'm leaving before this place sucks even more life out of me. I'll pop by sometime during the week."

Upon returning to the office, he wasn't in the door five minutes before he received his very first customer. Harry paused, halfway up the stairs when he heard the front door open and close. Heading back down, an elderly wizard was standing in the middle of the floor, dressed in a shocking assortment of clothing and looking slightly lost. He had a long, billowing white beard reminiscent of Professor Dumbledore, and he even tucked it into his belt like the old headmaster used to on occasion. His hair was cut short and messy, and a pair of bulky, inch-thick glasses perched above a round, bulbous nose.

Harry quickly made his way over, reminding himself to install a bell above the door to let him know when people entered.

"Hello," Harry began. Posting fliers would have to wait.

The old wizard jumped, pinning Harry with shifty brown eyes. "Two sickles and not a knut more!"

Harry stared at the man. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're for hire, ain't ya?" The man waved a crumpled up flier in his face. Ah, Luna – good work. "Well I'm hiring ya, got it? The name is Bloodsworth. Thomas Bloodsworth."

Harry blinked. The surname sounded familiar. Old pureblood family, for sure, but not hung up on blood supremacy. They'd be what the Malfoy's or Nott's would call blood-traitors. From what Harry could remember, they didn't socialize very often with others and owned a sizable portion of land further south. He'd never had dealings with the family, but had heard plenty of odd stories floating about the Ministry. They were well liked.

"Come on, then. I don't have all day, youngen!"

And then the man vanished with a crack.

"Uh."

He hadn't even told Harry where they were going. Harry suspected the man was senile.

Several seconds went by and then the man reappeared with a crack. Harry frowned. He really needed to place an anti-apparation jinx on the house. Having people pop in unannounced would be extremely annoying, not to mention rude.

"What's takin' ya so long!"

"You didn't tell me where we are going," Harry explained patiently. "Or what I'm being hired for, for that matter."

"I didn't?" Thomas scratched his cheek, squinting at Harry. Harry got the impression the man thought he was telling a fib. "Well take my hand, then."

He wasn't sure if he wanted to do that. Side-along apparation with a clearly disturbed old man wasn't Harry's idea of safe. Apparently, he had no say in the matter – as the man grabbed him by the wrist and suddenly, Harry felt like he was being squeezed through a small tube. He didn't fight it, waiting patiently for the sensation to pass and when it did, he immediately checked for damage.

Eight fingers and two thumbs wiggled in perfect order; and nothing felt missing on his feet. Touching his ears and nose confirmed their existence, and a pat on the bottom made sure his arse was still attached. He even grabbed his crotch briefly, just to make sure. Everything seemed like it was in working order.

"Just what are you doin'?" Thomas demanded. Harry smiled winningly.

"Nothing at all, sir, nothing at all," he was back on track. He had been thrown off by the odd senior, but now the excitement of his first job coursed through his body. A bit of a delayed reaction, but the quirkiness of his client had kept him off tilt. "So, two sickles, you say?"

"Aye, two sickles!"

Thomas gestured for him to follow and began hobbling towards a rather old looking house. Made entirely of wood, it looked like a typical, run of the mill log cabin. That is, if log cabins were four stories tall. It reminded Harry a bit of the Burrow, as it looked like one house after another had been slapped on top and this was the result. A gaggle of chickens clucked nearby, pecking at scraps of food while Harry saw a herd of cattle in the distance, grazing peacefully. Looking around, there was farmland as far as the eye could see, and most of the paddocks were in use. He could make out a number of crops, ranging from corn to wheat; while more animals than he could count grazed the lands.

Harry paused as he spotted a group of Aethonon, a breed of winged horse. They were chestnut in colour, unlike the palomino colouring of the Abraxan that had hauled the flying Beauxbatons carriage in his fourth year. They were also slightly smaller, a more compact build. Harry knew that Hagrid would just love them. Maybe Harry could acquire one for the half-giants birthday.

"So," Harry started. "What will I be doing?"

Something small and dense bumped against his shoe, causing him to look down. It looked like a potato with legs, and when it noticed it had bumped into a wizard, it scurried away as fast as it tiny legs could take it. Which meant not very fast at all.

"Gnomes," the man crowed, glowering at the retreating gnome. He looked like he wanted to take off after it, but thought better of it. "Blastin' pests. I want you to degnome the place."

Wait a minute...

"You want me to what?"

"Are ya deaf?" Thomas grumbled. "That's what I hired ya for, so get to it!"

So much for excitement. Harry sighed.

The next few hours were spent getting his hands dirty – literally. Gnomes were generally docile, dopy creatures that were no more than a pest; a pest that could ruin entire gardens with their playful nature. Typically, when you started picking them up and tossing them like a tennis ball, they would all come running, thinking it was some sort of game. It was rather ridiculous, but it made getting rid of the little buggers quite easy. Apparently, these gnomes didn't get that memo. These ones liked to _bite_, which his throbbing thumb could attest too. And they liked to swarm him in packs, like tiny little potato death-squads, but without the death.

It only made a silly situation even sillier.

It didn't help that he couldn't just pick them up and punt them like most people did, because they'd only resettle on another part of the farm. They'd just move from the cabbage patch to the cornfield, which wasn't a whole lot better. So Harry had set up an old barrel and sack that he'd scrounged up from the nearby barn. A bit of magic made it temporarily bottomless and he got to work. Let it be said that Harry was a magnificent seeker, but would be a terrible chaser – though perhaps this was closer to basketball than quidditch. More often than not, the small, hard-headed lumps bounced off the rim with a thump and a little yelp, before scurrying around in a confused daze.

...and he'd been so good at basketball at primary school, as well. He'd been better than Dudley, at any rate.

He used his wand when he got bored, summoning and banishing them in a constant, fluid motion. Rows of gnomes tumbled through the air, cart wheeling as they dropped into the modified sack. He felt quite good with himself when he gathered the last one and lobbed it in, cheering as he scored.

"Good, good," Thomas said, hobbling from the house. He was carrying a shovel. "Next you can clean out the stables."

Harry eyed the shovel. "Can't I just use magic?"

The old man grumbled. "I suppose so."

-x-**X**-x-

Harry yawned loudly as appeared in the street with a pop, stretching his arms above his head. Glancing around, he noticed that most of the stores had shut for the day, while others were in the process of closing up after a day of business. People wandered the ancient town, chatting amicably while their young children played in the melting snow of the night before. Birdsong flowed from the nearby Forbidden Forest, the old pines creaking as a soft breeze run between them. The sun was dipping low behind the white-capped mountains to the west, casting Hogsmeade and the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts in a pleasant orange glow.

Taking a deep breath of the crisp clean air, Harry let out a content sigh.

The day had been long, the job rather mundane – but coming home to this?

He smiled, tossing the two _galleons_ Thomas had given him in the air and catching them again.

There was nothing better.

He waved at a family as they past, knowing he should be annoyed at the way their young son gawked at his scar with wonderment but could only feel amusement. They looked rather startled, waving back awkwardly before moving on. His hand had only just touched the doorknob to his home when a familiar voice stopped him cold.

"Mister Potter."

He turned slowly.

Strong, intelligent blue eyes met his own carefully, guarded but not hostile. She was extremely attractive, her face smooth and well sculpted, further enhanced with a tasteful application of makeup. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, a few well placed strands hanging loose in a fashionable manner, drawing attention to her long, graceful neck. Dressed in flowing, well-made robes that matched her eyes, she looked untouchable, unapproachable.

Harry inclined his head.

"Narcissa."


	3. Chapter 3

It had been an interesting two weeks to say the least.

Business was booming. Not literally, though it wasn't far off. The amount of requests that poured in daily was mind blowing. Who knew that so many people had so many different problems? And who knew that they were willing to pay for those problems to disappear. He got requests for all sorts of things, mundane or otherwise. In the last week alone, he had been handyman, cleaner, gardener, curse breaker and children's entertainment at a birthday party. He had also helped gather wand materials for Mister Ollivander, who was starting to get on in years, and in doing so had learned more about wand lore than he had ever wanted to.

And that was only half of it.

It was crazy. Crazy and _fun_. He was having such a good time that he wondered why he hadn't done this sooner.

But then reality came knocking.

With so many jobs, he was having a hard time keeping track of everything. As each day went by, more and more letters remained unopened, waiting, as the backlog grew and grew. Of course, he didn't have to take on every job. The beauty about it was that he could choose what he wanted to do and what he didn't.

Being the person Harry was, though, he wanted to do them all. At least, the ones that weren't totally ridiculous. No matter how many times old biddies kept asking him to model underwear for them, he wasn't going to change his mind.

He needed help. And not just with handling jobs, either.

While some customers didn't mind his informal approach to the job, some wanted a more _binding_ agreement, for protection or whatever. And that meant contracts, and contracts meant paperwork. One thing he absolutely hated about his time with the Ministry was the amount of paperwork he was forced to endure. Harry Potter was a man of action. His weapon was his wand, not a damn quill. Unfortunately, paperwork didn't care – it followed him to his new job with an amused titter and wouldn't leave him alone. It was a curse all in itself.

So what he needed, what he wanted, was an office woman and a field agent all wrapped up in a single package...

...or something?

Hence, the long ass day he had just endured.

Harry watched as the last applicant left, the door closing with a soft click. He remained that way for a few moments, fingers idly drumming at the surface of his desk, before he sighed heavily, sagging back against his chair. Removing his glasses, he dropped them in his lap and massaged his eyes with his palms, attempting to drive the weariness away with little success.

"That was a waste of time," he groaned tiredly.

"I don't know," Ron answered from the kitchen. "The view was nice."

"Yeah, I can't argue with you there."

But an eye pleaser wasn't what the doctor ordered. Most of the people that applied had been single, under twenty and decidedly female – which wasn't a bad thing, not at all. Like Ron had pointed out, the view had been pleasing. But that was all that was pleasing, to tell the truth. He wasn't sure exactly what he was truly looking for in an assistant, but it was something that everyone he had interviewed today had lacked. The fact that the majority of them had been obsessed with the legend of the _Chosen One_ also played a big part – they could be bloody annoying when they wanted too.

While he didn't shy away from his fame as much as he did as a teen, he found that it caused almost as many problems as it helped him solve at times.

"I thought that Chelsea girl was alright," Ron piped up, stretching with a wide yawn as he re-entered the main room.

"You thought all of them were alright," Harry shot back, grinning at the look of embarrassment on his friends face.

"Uh, yeah," the red-head chuckled, scratching his neck awkwardly. "Don't mention this to the wife, mate – please?"

"Don't worry," Harry snorted, returning his glasses to their rightful place. "My lips are sealed."

They rested in silence for a few seconds, an owl swooping in and dropping a letter on Harry's desk in the meantime. He ignored it.

"Thanks for the help, by the way."

Ron shrugged. "I felt like taking a sick day, anyway. I have to use them by the end of the year, so why not now."

Harry nodded.

"You know..." Ron began.

"What?"

"Ginny has been asking about you."

Harry grunted.

Ron sighed. "Come on, mate – I know what she did was shitty, bu-"

"Shitty?" Harry cut in dryly, slouching against his desk, cheek in hand. "That's one way of putting it."

"Harry," Ron began again, but was once more interrupted at the sound of a tingling bell.

Both pairs of eyes were drawn to the now open door.

Harry blinked; then blinked again, before a small smile began creeping across his face as he straightened. Things were about to get very interesting.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Ron snapped at the new arrival, spying the easily recognizable magazine clutched in her hands. It was a copy of the Quibbler; the newest issue, to be precise. They didn't normally do job vacancy adverts, but Luna was such a sweet thing in allowing it. "Oh _hell no_,"

"Afternoon, _Weatherby_," Pansy Parkinson replied, not even sparing Ron more than a mere glance. Harry quirked an eyebrow, not having heard that name used in a while – fourth year? Or was it fifth? – but he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him at Ron's irritated expression. "Afternoon, Potter."

Harry hummed, giving the former-Slytherin house member the once over. While the girl wouldn't win any beauty contests, it would be a full blown lie to say that she was unattractive. Gone were the days of baby fat and slightly-puggish features, replaced with a rather cute face capped off with a small button nose, her hair no longer cut to shoulder but flowing down her back in shimmering waves, no doubt the result of some sort of beauty product. Body wise, she was a sure thing – her robes clinging to her pert breasts and firm behind in an enticing manner. Harry suspected she took real good care of herself, possibly with expensive self-modifying potions – the 'plastic surgery' of the wizarding world. Unfortunately, her decent looks were typically ruined by her bitchy attitude and the way she turned up her nose at almost _everything_.

"Real funny," Ron continued, glaring at the shorter witch. She continued to ignore him in a disinterested fashion, like he wasn't worth her time. "Now leave."

"I'll take this from here."

Ron stared at his friend in disbelief.

"Have you gone mad?" he sputtered. "You do remember that she wanted to sell you out to You-Kn... to Voldemort, don't you?"

Harry noticed the girl flinch at that, but quickly regain her composure. Harry waved his hand airily. He hadn't forgotten.

"Yeah, don't worry. I'll take care of this," Ron looked ready to protest, so he added. "Don't you normally stop by the Burrow around this time? They'll be wondering where you are."

Ron huffed, backing down for now. "Whatever."

Grabbing his coat off the stand near the door, he stormed out into the street and vanished with a crack of displaced air.

Harry rolled his eyes before turning back to his current guest. She was staring at him with a rather haughty expression, just like old times. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the witch.

"How are you?" Harry enquired politely.

"This isn't a social call, Potter. I believe we have business to conduct."

"Ah, yes – the job. You want to be my assistant," he scratched his cheek, giving an overly exaggerated sigh. He wasn't sure if he was going to regret this in the future, but, "You're hired."

That wiped the smugness right off her face as she gaped at him in shock.

Seeing that look on Pansy Parkinson's face was worth it.

"W-What?" she asked eloquently. Harry smiled.

"Welcome to the team."

"But you haven't-I haven't even-Aren't you going to interview me?" she stumbled over her words.

"You want the job right?" he baited. She nodded. "Then you've got it. You start tomorrow."

She stared at him.

"I think we'll make quite the team," Harry said, standing. He moved around the desk and grabbed one of her hands. He noted in the back of his mind that she had really soft skin. "So let's go celebrate your new job, eh?"

"Don't you care why?"

"Why what?"

She pulled her hand away. "Why I want the job, you nitwit!"

Harry shrugged. "You need the money? You want to be closer to me?" here he stopped, giving her a coy look in which she returned with a glare, before continuing, "I don't really care. All I know is that having you around will definitely make things interesting."

Because really, that was all that mattered.

No one ever said that Harry had his priorities straight.

Warrior office woman or not, he was sure Pansy Parkinson could handle it.

Grabbing her hand once more, he pulled his former classmate out the door, a careless wave of his wand enough to seal the office for the night. Turning on the spot, the two vanished and reappeared in Diagon Alley with a soft pop. Still somewhat thrown off, Pansy did nothing as her new boss pulled her towards the Leaky Cauldron, weaving in and out of the rush-hour crowd. They didn't stop, not once – even the magical entrance was open and ready for them when they arrived, a family of four having opened the portal moments before. The brick wall closed up behind them as Harry ushered the pureblood witch into the establishment, quickly finding a table near the back. Considering the day – Tuesday – the amount of genuine patrons was surprising.

The Leaky Cauldron could be a hive of activity at the strangest of hours, but it was normally people either passing through to the alley or out into London, not getting piss-drunk. Then he remembered.

"What's going on?" she asked in wonderment.

"Quidditch," Harry recalled. He ignored Pansy's amused look as he kept a close eye on a Hag in the corner, who was staring at him hungrily. "England is playing Ireland soon – Tom plays the games over the wireless."

"Oh," she replied, surprised. That explained everything. Despite their terrible international record, England was still as mad about Quidditch as ever. They might have one of the best leagues in the world, but when it came to competing against other countries... well, they were just plain rubbish most of the time.

"Well then," he began, waving Tom over. He ordered a fire whiskey for the pair of them and before she could object, the barman was gone to fetch his order. "I haven't seen you in awhile. Been keeping yourself busy?"

"This and that," she returned coolly, inspecting her manicured nails. "Nothing very interesting,"

"Humour me,"

Pansy frowned, before sighing. "Well, after... well, after _that_, I took my NEWTs at the Ministry – didn't feel much like returning to Hogwarts after everything that happened, you know?" she nodded at Tom as he delivered their drinks, the old man giving them both a quick smile before scampering away. "Then I did a bit of travelling, thought I'd see the world. It was... fun."

Harry took a sip of his drink, wetting his lips. "I see. I did a bit of that myself, straight out of Hogwarts, before I become an Auror. Say what you want about the yanks, they make good pizza."

Pansy stared at him blankly.

"I travelled the muggle way," Harry explained, leaning back in his chair. "Takes longer but I find it more fun. It also let me see more of their world as well as our own. I may have been travelling to see more of the wizarding world, but that didn't mean I couldn't check out the muggle side while I was at it."

Harry chuckled at the look of distaste on her face. "Still hate muggles, then?"

Her eyes widened. "I-wait-I mean-"

"It's alright. I won't fire you because of that. Just remember, my mother was muggle-born. I'd appreciate it if you kept your views to yourself when I'm around, yeah?"

Pansy nodded, looking away. They both sat in silence, listening to the wireless name the starting line-up for the English squad, followed by the Irish. At the bar were a line of English supporters dressed in white and red shirts, accompanied by a lone Irish supporter decked out in green, with a very large top hat. Food was being served to several tables, baskets of chips, burgers; the usual pub fare. Gesturing to one of the workers, he ordered a second drink for the pair of them and some chips before starting up the conversation once more.

"So," Harry downed the rest of his first glass in one go, in preparation of the second. "I heard you had a falling out with Malfoy."

The glare she sent his way desired his immediate death. Harry held his hands up in mock defence. "Woah, calm down – just telling you what I heard, that's all."

"He's with that tramp now," she gritted out, before visibly gathering herself. Much more calmly, she added, "...I'm better off."

"Astoria Greengrass, right? Her older sister was in our year."

The pureblood witch nodded stiffly. Harry could almost feel the heat of her blazing hatred.

"What if I told you," he began tentatively, making sure no one was attempting to overhear. "That I've been hired by a concerned Narcissa Malfoy to look into the life of her son's soon-to-be wife?"

That seemed to get her attention. "What? Why?"

"She thinks she might be cheating on him," Harry shrugged. "I haven't started on the case yet, as the couple are overseas on a holiday, so I don't know if she is or she isn't, but from what I've been provided, not everything adds up. Something is definitely going on there."

The sudden smile that overtook Pansy's face had a decidedly sinister edge to it. Her eyes practically lit up at the opportunity to humiliate the woman who had swooped in under her nose and had stolen her teenage sweetheart. Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"I thought that'd put a smile on your face," Harry then turned oddly serious, knocking his knuckles against the wood of the table. "In saying that, we do this properly, understand? If she is clean, we walk away. I don't want you spreading false rumours out of spite."

Harry blinked as the woman opposite him pouted. He hadn't seen that before. "Fine, fine."

Their food arrived, as well as their second round of drinks. Pansy quickly gulped the rest of her first glass and started in on her second, Harry following her example. Picking at the crisp deep fried chips in the centre of their table, he dabbed one in sauce before popping it in his mouth.

"Why'd she come to you, anyway?"

"Hm?"

"Missus Malfoy," Pansy ignored the sauce and ate one plain. "Why'd she come to you, of all people?"

Harry hummed, remembering his reasons for taking this job. He wasn't being paid for it. "I owe her."

Pansy looked slightly startled at that. "You owe her? Whatever for?"

Grabbing a chip, he waved it slightly before biting off the end. "She saved my life."

What could Pansy say to that? A slightly awkward air surrounded them after that, the pair of them listening as the game begun. England surged to a 40 – 0 lead before Ireland began a scoring spree that seemed almost surreal, the patrons becoming unruly as their team was being dismantled by expert chaser formations, the commentators explaining in painful detail to English fans everywhere. All in all, it was expected – that is, if you weren't an England fan. Everyone else knew that Ireland should win and win comfortably, especially since Oliver Wood was out with injury, Harry's former Quidditch captain having shattered his collarbone in the final game of the British league a week ago. Even with magic, he hadn't been able to pull through the medical in time. Without their star keeper, they went from being sorta-okay to dreadful.

Despite this...

"Up for a bet?" Harry asked, attempting to break the ice once more.

Pansy quirked an eyebrow. "A bet?"

"Yeah. I'll put ten galleons on England."

She almost balked at that. "Don't you like money, Potter?"

"You in or not?"

She frowned at him, biting her lip thoughtfully – until she caught what she was doing. Flushing slightly, she nodded. "Fine, I could use the extra change."

England ended up winning, 430 – 410.

-x-**X**-x-

Harry yawned widely as he tapped the teapot with his wand, a puff of steam billowing from the spout. Satisfied, he placed it on an ornate silver tray along with two cups, some cream and sugar, and carried it out into the main room. Setting it down carefully on his desk, he made his way up stairs and opened his bedroom door.

The sight of Pansy Parkinson sleeping in his bed was just as absurd now as it was twenty minutes ago, when he woke up beside her.

He watched her for a moment, taking in the way her hair fanned out on the pillows and how much younger she looked without her usual scowling expression. She looked – for lack of a better word – peaceful.

And he was about a ruin it.

"Rise and shine," he called out, flicking his wand at the curtains. They snapped open with a jolt and the room was flooded with sunlight. "We don't have all day – hurry up."

Pansy bolted up in fright.

"Potter!" she screamed, enraged. It took her a few moments to realise where she was. "...where am I?" The way she whispered that last part was particularly venomous.

"I think we had a bit too much to drink," he explained calmly. He gestured to her chest. "Want to cover up?"

She blinked at him before looking down. She was wearing nothing but a rather expensive looking, rather fetching black and red bra. Harry had never seen someone move so fast, her hands snatching the covers and pulling them over her head in outrage.

"You!" she shrieked. "Potter, you're dead!"

"Hey, hey, calm down," he soothed. "Nothing happened. We just got drunk at the pub, come back and passed out. You are over reacting."

Silence persisted for a moment, and then slowly, she peaked out from under the sheets.

"Nothing happened?" she repeated.

"Nothing happened," he turned, heading for the door. "I found your clothes and washed them, they are waiting in the bathroom – there is a shower down the hall. I made some tea, if you want a cup. Work starts in an hour."

It wasn't until he was downstairs and halfway through his tea that he heard the shower turn on. This was one of the weirder mornings he had had in a long while.

Despite what he told her, he wasn't exactly sure if anything had happened or not. The fact that they both woke up in their underwear pointed at nothing serious, but you never know.

Fire Whiskey was on his shit list for the time being.

He was idly flicking through a few letters when she came down, dressed and in a much calmer mood. Her hair was still wet and he wondered why she didn't just dry it with a spell, but refrained from asking. Instead, he poured her a cup of tea and gestured for her to take a seat.

"So, as you can see, I have more letters than I can deal with."

"No kidding," she looked at the pile incredulously. It reached from the floor beside the desk and crested over the side onto his workspace, like some sort of demented letter monster. "You are as popular as ever."

Harry smiled. "Any job you see that you think you can handle, go right ahead. Contracts are in the filing cabinets for when you need them. Everything is labelled. When you finish a job, file the letter along with the contract – if there is one. Might as well keep a record of everything and do it right."

She reached forward and plucked a random letter from the pile, opening the envelope with a swipe of a nail, the wax seal snapping audibly.

"Dear Mister Potter," she began. "My husband recently discovered that he is unable to have children. After much consideration, we would like you..." she trailed off, staring at the note blankly.

Harry closed his eyes with a sigh. "Yeah... those go in the bin."

"She wants to have your babies," Pansy shook her head in disbelief. "Do these women have no shame? She must be a muggleborn."

He arched an eyebrow, giving her an amused look. "Oh?"

"No pureblood would ever offer such a ridiculous proposal."

"...you really don't know your fellow purebloods very well, then."

They sorted through a few more in silence.

"Malfoy is due back in a few days," he informed her after she binned another letter. He didn't bother asking her what it said. "Do you know much about Astoria Greengrass? Narcissa provided some information, but anything you could contribute would help."

"An easy slut." she supplied easily.

"...other than that?" he deadpanned. Pansy gave him a sour look.

"An air headed bint?"

"Parkinson, come on."

"Oh alright – she was top of her class. Bit of a bookworm, of course – she was in Ravenclaw. Got near perfect scores on her OWL and NEWTs. She is really close with her sister. Practically twins, those two."

"According to Narcissa, she is studying advanced spell crafting with an emphasis on defence against the dark arts. She wants to become a teacher at Hogwarts."

Pansy didn't look surprised. "That was her best class, or so I heard. Not as talented as you, but close."

Harry smiled. "You noticed?"

"Sod off, Potter."

He chuckled. "Anything else?"

"You'd probably find her attractive. A tiny thing, like Daphne – but a good figure, I suppose. I know all the boys in her year used to drool like idiots around her."

"That must have been painful to say."

"You have _no_ idea."

She sipped at her tea, humming in delight. The heating charm on the cup kept it at the perfect temperature.

"She got many friends?"

"A few – I don't know their names. If I may ask, why does Narcissa think something is going on?"

"She has been keeping some pretty abnormal hours. She lives at Malfoy Manor, but you probably already knew that. She says she is simply visiting her sister, but..." Pansy nodded. "Also, even though the Greengrass family are an old pureblood family, they aren't filthy rich like some of them. Apparently, she has been spending quite a bit of money – more money than she should be comfortable using. And dear Draco isn't supplying it."

Harry noticed that she gained an odd look, her eyes lowered. "Does Draco suspect anything?"

Harry shrugged, eying her closely. "Not that I'm aware. Narcissa hasn't told him of her suspicions, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have some of his own."

They continued sorting through letters for the majority of the day.

-x-**X**-x-

Malfoy Manor was just as he remembered it.

The high, manicured yew hedge that bordered the driveway on both sides – a driveway that was both long and perfectly straight – was just as he recalled. Another familiar sight was the iron-wrought gates that kept all from approaching on foot. Just beyond, Harry could see the majestic albino peacocks that Lucius favoured, strutting on the immaculate lawn and going about their business, looking both beautiful and graceful. The handsome manor house in the distance – with its smart, Elizabethan architecture – was quite the sight, especially in the dying rays of the setting sun. It bathed the stonework in an attractive orange glow.

He had seen this all before, of course, but it was no less awe inspiring. Harry knew the Dursleys would be impressed – until they found out it was the home of a wizarding family. Vernon would probably have a stroke.

Harry shifted slightly under his invisibility cloak, standing watch. Three nights had passed since his first stakeout and if this wasn't one of the most boring things he had done in recent memory, then he didn't know what was.

But it had to be done.

Malfoy Manor was protected – even more so since the war. No one could apparate in or out, and they were only connected to a few, specific locations on the floo network. If Astoria – or anyone else, for that matter – wanted to leave, they needed to first exit the grounds beforehand.

Unless they were using a portkey or – as Harry had done – a house-elf. Portkey travel was monitored extensively and unauthorised creation of such things was a serious offence. Ministry sanctioned portkeys also required a weeks advanced notice and Harry knew no such request had been put in.

As for house-elves... he couldn't see anyone else ever using such a method. Especially a pureblood like Astoria Greengrass. It wouldn't even cross her mind.

No, she'd have to come out sometime. And he'd be waiting.

He just wished she would hurry up. His feet were staring to get sore. He idly thought of his new partner while he waited.

Even in the short time she had been working for him, he now knew Pansy was the right witch for the job. Over the last week, he had been taking her on jobs, showing the witch how he did things. It also helped to let people know that he wasn't the only one on the job, and they might end up getting Pansy Parkinson instead of Harry Potter.

Watching the normally prim and proper Pansy get down and dirty was very amusing indeed. On just her second job, she had been kicked by an irritable hippogriff that had wandered onto an unsuspecting wizard's property and which they had been contacted to remove, had fallen in a river after chasing the foul-tempered creature across a slippery bank, and then accidentally stunned herself when her spell backfired in her rage.

If only she had remembered to bow and maintain eye contact. Harry supposed she forgot about that lesson after Malfoy got mauled by Buckbeak; such was her distress at the time. To be fair, though, even when Harry tried it never bowed back and maintained its surly attitude, refusing any and all attempts at a peaceful resolution.

In the end, Harry had to stun it. Repeatedly.

The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had been particularly annoyed that they hadn't been contacted first to deal with the matter, but Harry could hardly blame the wizard for coming to him instead.

Everyone knew about the recent trouble they were having with the giant clans since the war. After the first war in the seventies, they had gained a bad stigma – which only increased after they chose to side with Lord Voldemort again during his second rise. Many wanted them to be wiped out all together, before they could join another dark wizard.

But they were an endangered species – largely in part due to the various giant slaying that occurred in the mid-eighties as a result of the first war. Their tribes once numbered in the hundreds – now? Harry guessed there were only a few left, maybe even less.

It was a tricky situation.

The genocide of an entire race of magical beings would be perceived extremely badly by other magical beings that associated with wizard-kind. Goblins, for instance, not to mention the Centaurs and the various vampire covens. They, especially, would take it as a threat.

He knew Hermione must be tearing her hair out over the issue.

Movement drew his attention, a shadowed silhouette leaving the manor house and coming his way. They moved swiftly and with purpose, the tell tale click of heels on cobble becoming apparent the closer they approached. Whoever they were, they were quite short – short and slender, dressed in fashionable deep-blue robes.

A few moments later and he could make out her face as she stopped just beyond the gate.

Astoria Greengrass was a very attractive young lady. High cheekbones and a slender, well proportioned nose, her skin looked impossibly smooth, with a very healthy complexion that even the dying light failed to hide. Her hair was a dark chestnut and styled in a rather elaborate braid that reached her lower back. With her hair pulled back, it showed off the gleaming diamonds that dangled from each ear. As close as she was, he couldn't make out her eyes – but he knew they were a vivid blue from a photo provided by Narcissa, a match with her clearly expensive robes. If not for the incredibly long hair, one could easily mistake her for her older sister Daphne.

Finally.

Astoria rapped her wand on the gate three times. The iron shuddered as if in protest before groaning, the gate clanging as it parted. It remained open long enough for the witch to step through before banging shut, rippling as whatever defensive enchantments were replaced.

Harry watched as she opened a leather handbag and placed her wand inside, before turning on the spot. She vanished with a small crack of displaced air.

Perfect.

He approached the spot she apparated from, holding out a hand. Concentrating, he focused his mind on feeling for the magic lingering in the air. He briefly thought about Professor Dumbledore, his old, weathered hands running over jagged rock, feeling for that distinct feel that known magic left behind.

It was a terribly useful skill – a very rare one, at that – an almost inborn ability like being a Parselmouth, but not so exclusive. Only a few had the ability to learn it.

Normally, apparation was thought to be untraceable.

Harry grinned cheekily and with a quiet pop, followed the trail of breadcrumbs.

-x-**X**-x-

**Author Note: **As you might already know, I lost all my stuff on my computer a little while ago. Thankfully, I posted most of this story and future scenes on DLP, so this story wasn't harmed all that much. I did have to rewrite a few scenes that I hadn't posted, however.

Hopefully I can get back into the swing of things.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing Harry noticed when he reappeared was that it looked like he was on Privet Drive. Row upon row of near identical, two story housing ran up and down the street, with well mowed lawns and well tended garden beds that reminded him of his youth. The street lights were only now just beginning to flicker on, and Harry watched as a car drove by slowly and pulled into one of the few empty drive-ways.

The sound of someone knocking on wood from behind him drew his attention.

Astoria lowered her hand, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited at the door. Harry realised he was standing in the middle of the front lawn and if it hadn't been for his cloak, he would be in full view of any muggle.

Surely she wasn't so reckless as to apparate in the middle of a street like this?

His internal question was answered when he felt several charms layered on the property, chief among them a muggle-repelling spell. So she wasn't a complete idiot, after all.

And he had a good idea where he was now.

As expected, Daphne Greengrass answered the door, welcoming her sister in with a smile. Her hair was much shorter than her younger sister, pulled up in a rather styled bun – but otherwise, they were practically identical. They even wore the same earrings.

So she was telling the truth – she was just visiting her sister. At least, this time.

As soon as the door closed, he moved towards one of the windows, hoping to get a peek. Unfortunately, they were charmed – he could see nothing more than an unoccupied, dark house filled with muggle items such as a television.

He was careful to avoid the garden as he crept around the corner. Unlike the other properties lining the street, Daphne's garden was filled with various magical plants. Harry spotted belladonna, aconite, fluxweed and a whole host of others that he didn't recognise but looked dangerous. He moved quickly when some unknown plant snapped at his heels, somehow knowing he was there despite his invisibility cloak.

The backyard was similar – some more plants, a small greenhouse and a shed. Neville would appreciate such a set-up, he couldn't help but think.

The back windows weren't any different, charmed like the rest. Smoke began to rise from the chimney, which he ignored in favour of tapping his wand against the backdoor. It was locked magically, but with nothing more than what a few simple spells couldn't undo. He also picked up the anti-apparation jinx placed over the house.

Harry sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

He scouted the property for a few more minutes before moving out into the street, looking for a street sign. Most wizarding homes had to be registered with the Ministry for Magic for various reasons, though that wasn't to say that certain families ignored such a law. Even if they did register, the information wasn't a matter of public record anyway. As far as Harry had been able to glean through various sources, Daphne lived somewhere in Kent – and that was as far as he got. There had been no specific address to be found. He hadn't even known she lived in muggle suburbia and was mildly surprised, even though he probably shouldn't be. The Blacks, for example, lived in their ancestral home which was built in a muggle area and they were as pureblood as you could be – though their home was built there long before any of the rest.

If nothing else, he now knew exactly where she lived. He pulled out a small notebook and a muggle pen, jotting down the street name when he found it and her house number. He had a feeling that was all he would be getting that night.

The rest of the week followed a similar pattern. Every couple of days, Astoria Greengrass would leave Malfoy Manor at around the same time, apparating to Kent to visit her sister. She would stay the entire night and not come out till the next day, normally around seven o'clock but sometimes as late as ten. Most of the time, she went straight home. Sometimes, she stopped by Diagon Alley for breakfast and to visit Gringotts.

All in all, none of it was really suspicious behaviour – not truly. But Harry couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on. Astoria was going to an awful amount of the trouble to pretty herself up each time, wearing fashionable robes or glamorous jewellery. She looked like she should be dining out at fancy restaurants, not simply visiting family.

But he was quickly becoming exhausted. Watching a house all night wasn't particularly enjoyable, especially when he gained nothing from it. It wasn't until his fifth night camping out that he tried something a little different, bringing along one of the many trinkets that he kept on display at the office.

They looked like a pair of omnioculars and functioned in a similar fashion. One key difference, however, was their ability to see through other objects in a manner not too dissimilar to Mad-Eye Moody's notorious enchanted eye. The only reason he hadn't brought them sooner was because they had a tendency to give the user a _massive _migraine – one that refused any and all magical or muggle treatment. He hadn't wanted to put himself through several hours of brain pounding agony, but he couldn't stand staring at Daphne's front door any longer.

He'd picked up this particular device after raiding the home of sex offender not long after joining the Aurors. The man had been using a combination of illegal potions and some rather clever charm work to have his way with defenceless women without revealing his identity. Like regular omnioculars, this pair could also record and take pictures. The number of photos they had recovered of women numbered in the thousands, some taken through solid wall and almost all were in some form of undress.

Harry had pilfered them soon after the wizard had been caught, knowing they would come in handy in the future. They would just be sitting in evidence, otherwise – useless and forgotten. He knew he could put them to good use.

He just wished they wouldn't melt his brain whenever he used them and wondered how that wizard countered the effects. He _had_ been slightly unhinged, so maybe he didn't.

Instead of following Astoria from Malfoy Manor, he instead skipped ahead and was waiting for her in Kent. Like clockwork, she appeared and was let inside by her sister. Business as usual.

Harry fiddled with the knobs and dials, adjusting the range and other such nonsense. He also set the device to record and with baited breath, peered through the eyeholes. At first his vision was blurred and he couldn't make out much of anything, but as the seconds ticked by, it snapped into focus with a light blue tint.

Immediately, he spotted the pair moving towards a bedroom toward the back of the house. He spotted some typical magical artefacts littered around the house and some not-so typical ones, as well as a ton of books scattered on various tables, bookshelves and benches. It looked like Daphne liked to read just as much as Hermione did. A closer look revealed that most of them were about herbology and the garden made much more sense.

It was then that he saw it.

"Oh."

-x-**X**-x-

"Potter! What are doing here?" Pansy exclaimed, hiding the best she could behind her apartment door. Ordinarily, Harry would take the time to admire the way her flimsy nightgown barely covered her bare thighs, but-"You look terrible."

"Thanks," he muttered, pushing the door open and letting himself in. She glared at him in annoyance as he brushed by her. "My head is pounding like a drum."

He moved further into her apartment, seating himself on a black leather couch. The room was dominated by the large, old coffee table in the centre, but it was the tasteful art work and various vases filled with flowers that would draw ones attention. The thick, heavy curtains were drawn shut, blocking out the London skyline, and the room was cast in the dull orange glow of candle light. The building was wizard owned and operated despite its outward muggle appearance, one of many that had cropped up around the great old city in recent years, and thus did not have electricity.

He shut his eyes and leaned back, sinking comfortably into the upholstery. Pansy closed the door roughly, passing him briskly and seating herself across from him. When he opened his eyes, she had a small blanket draped over her lap and an open book.

"Reading?"

"Yes. Now shut up and let me finish this chapter."

That was fine by him, rubbing his temples in a soothing rhythm. Somehow, the sound of parchment rustling whenever she turned the page seemed to help, and he drifted off somewhat, in that space between awake and asleep. He felt somewhat detached from the pain, like he was floating in lukewarm water. It was a pleasant feeling.

He could do with a bath.

He was never a prefect, never afforded the opportunity. That didn't mean he didn't make liberal use of the prefect bathrooms whenever he could while still at school. There was nothing better than sinking into a large tub of warm water, the soothing aroma of apples or peach or whatever he wished for dulling the senses.

"So, what are you doing here?"

He was almost annoyed that she had spoken, but he knew she had every right to ask about his sudden uninvited intrusion. The pain came rushing back, causing him to grimace, but even the constant thumping of his brain couldn't kill the sudden rush of excitement that he experienced.

"Astoria is definitely up to something," he began, and he knew her interest was peaked immediately. She sat up straighter, suddenly looking much more tolerant of his presence. "What do you know about vanishing cabinets?"

She frowned.

"Quite a bit, actually," she replied briskly. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "Not exactly – but I assumed that Malfoy might have talked about his time repairing one at school. From what I understand, fixing one isn't exactly easy. It's only natural that he bragged about it a little, even if he wasn't entirely at ease for what it was used for."

"You know he never really wante-" she began.

"I know," he interrupted, not at all surprised that she was willing to defend him. No matter what had occurred between herself and Draco Malfoy, it was impossible to forget that she once loved him more than anything. "Why do you think I testified on behalf of his family after the war?"

Between Draco's change of heart and not revealing his identity to Bellatrix and Narcissa showing surprising courage in lying to the Dark Lord, they more than earned his testimony. The unfortunate side effect was that Lucius Malfoy was free, but Harry knew the man had more than learnt his lesson after his first stint in Azkaban prison and nearly losing his family. He even gave evidence to convict other Death Eaters captured after the war, but to this day, the pureblood aristocrat wasn't quite the same imposing man that Harry had first met in his second year.

"Daphne has a vanishing cabinet in her house, but I bet it was Astoria's idea. Problem is I have no idea where they are going. It's impossible to track. They could be going anywhere."

Short of breaking in and using it himself, there was no other way.

Pansy spotted his grin. "I take it you have a plan?"

"I do, but first things first – do you have a bath?"

She swiftly kicked him out.

-x-**X**-x-

It was a few days later that Harry and Pansy found themselves in Daphne's backyard, huddled together under his invisibility cloak. Astoria had already arrived and if their usual behaviour held true, the sisters were already long gone. The backdoor was relatively simple to unlock, and they quickly entered the empty kitchen moments after the door swung open.

"That was a little disturbing." Pansy said, helping to remove the invisibility cloak.

Harry glanced at his companion as they moved into the lounge room, folding the cloak neatly before stuffing it in his mokeskin pouch that hung from his neck.

"What was?" he asked.

"How easily you unravelled those locking charms."

"I guess you could say that is a speciality of mine. You learn quite a bit as an Auror."

Harry led her out through a hallway, passing by the staircase and stopping outside a bedroom door. He tapped it a few times with his wand before pulling it open, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The room was rather plain, with a set of drawers, a queen-size bed and a bedside table – no doubt it was a guest bedroom. The only thing that stood out was the vanishing cabinet wedged into the corner, looking almost forgotten.

It was rather weathered, the grain of the wood worn smooth over the years. It was made from a dark wood, with iron hinges and a large, heavy iron handle. Various characters were inscribed over the surface, on the door and around the frame, but most of them were completely unreadable. The ones Harry could make out were unknown to him.

"Safe passage."

Harry gave Pansy a curious look. "What?"

"Those two at the top – it means safe passage. I took Ancient Runes at school – they are Greek."

He nodded, inspecting the group of symbols she pointed out. It just looked like gibberish to him. Maybe he should remedy that. "Makes sense. Can you make out any of the others?"

She pointed at a barely visible one on the frame. "That means travel – the one above it means distance. And that one in the top corner means protection, I think. The rest, I can't be sure. They are too worn to make out properly."

Harry traced his wand over the smooth surface of the door before giving it a few taps, humming softly. Frowning, he tapped the handle, watching as the metal flashed bright red.

"What does that mean?" Pansy asked, watching him work. He tapped it a few more times, getting the same result. Trying something new, he pressed the tip of his wand against it, pushing firmly – and Pansy watched in fascination as a small tendril of smoke coiled from the contact, accompanying a small hiss. It reminded her of frying eggs on a pan.

"The handle is cursed. Something nasty, by the looks of it. You really don't want to be touching it, at any rate." Removing his wand, he gave it a quick flick, conjuring a white silk scarf. "Fortunately for us, wizards – or in this case, witches – rarely think outside the box."

Directing the scarf with his wand, the thin material looped through the handle and tied itself in a neat knot. Pocketing his wand, he grabbed the ends of the scarf and gave a sharp tug, the door pulling open easily enough. An empty cabinet greeted them both.

"It needs skin contact," Pansy uttered, impressed. "I see you have some brains in that skull of yours, Potter. Nice work."

"Hah – get in the cabinet, Parkinson."

She squawked indignantly when he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her in like old luggage. Before she could verbally lash him, he stepped in behind her, the door closing behind him and shrouding them in darkness. They shifted slightly, bumping into each other.

"Watch it!" she snapped, and Harry withdrew. His arm had been buried in her cleavage.

"Sorry."

They waited in silence for a moment, and then Harry pushed the door open and stepped out. Or rather, he tried – but ended up on the ground, face first with Pansy on his back. He grunted at the impact, the soft, thick carpet breaking much of his fall. Their legs were tangled.

"It worked."

Propping himself up, Harry looked around and realised she was right. They were no longer in Daphne's house. This room was large, with expensive carpet and finely varnished wooden wall panels. A large desk was situated in the centre, with a comfortable looking high-back chair seated behind it. Various portraits hung on the walls, all of which were moving and the occupants were peering down at them in astonishment. The far wall was dominated by an enormous window that revealed large, rolling hills and vibrant pines in the light of the setting sun.

Yes, they were definitely somewhere else.

"My word," a portly man with a large moustache chortled, peering from his canvas. He was dressed in robes that reminded Harry of the pair Ron wore to the Yule Ball in their fourth year. "What is going on here?"

From his position on the floor, he retrieved his wand and gave it a sharp jab, followed by three quick counter-clockwise twists. The portraits froze dead in their tracks, unable to move, unable to speak. Only their eyes remained unhindered, rolling around in their sockets madly as they struggled against the spell.

"That was close."

"Too close, Potter."

"Yeah, yeah – come on."

Fortunately, other than the portraits, the room was empty. While Pansy moved towards the window, Harry made his way over to the desk. The surface was littered with various pieces of parchment, an ink well and quill, an ornate candle holder, and a picture frame. The woman in the frame was beautiful, with smooth mocha skin, long dark hair, and exotic green eyes. She was dressed in a low cut gown that showed ample cleavage, the cream colour of her dress contrasting nicely with her skin tone. However, the one blemish was the rather bland look she wore, like whoever was taking her picture was beneath her notice.

He called Pansy over, showing her the picture. "Anyone you know?"

She didn't glance at it for more than a second before nodding, brows pulled together in worry. "That is Isabella Zabini – Blaise Zabini's mother."

Harry blinked, surprised. The woman looked to be in her late twenties.

"The infamous Black Widow?"

"Heard about that, have you?"

"Who hasn't? How many husbands has she had? I've lost count."

He placed the frame back on the desk before shuffling through the letters on display. There were a few from the Daily Prophet, one from Gringotts, and a whole lot of others from random people Harry had never heard of. One name was present on all of them, though, a very familiar name.

Blaise Zabini.

Along with the picture, it was pretty easy to figure out where they were. But what did Blaise have to do with any of this? She was cheating on Malfoy with _him_? And how was Daphne involved? Could he be sleeping with _both of them_? That sounded absurd.

But not impossible.

Harry checked the desk drawers with his wand, but they were heavily charmed. Harry knew he could probably break through them with enough time, but this room wasn't going to stay empty forever. They needed to move.

"Parkinson – come here."

She glared at him but obeyed, showing a remarkable amount of trust in him when he tapped her on the head with his wand. Her form shimmered for a moment before vanishing almost completely, the effects of the disillusionment charm taking hold. He repeated the process on himself. The invisibility cloak was much more reliable, but it was rather crowed with two fully grown adults underneath. And Harry had a feeling that they would need to split up.

"Meet me back here in twenty minutes, alright?" he told his partner, pulling open the door and peering out. The hallway was clear, and halfway down he could see a staircase. "Check out the bottom floor – I'll have a look up here."

She didn't reply, and Harry saw nothing more than a faint shimmer as she walked by and out the door. He followed, closing the door carefully. The hall was just as lavish, with thick carpet and portraits lining the walls. Harry moved slowly, peering down the staircase as he passed. With some surprise, he noticed that the foyer was filled with people, yet none of the chatter reached him. Some type of charm?

The men were dressed in fine robes, while the women looked glamorous in flowing dresses. Most, if not all of them, cradled a flute of champagne, sipping at their drinks as they socialised.

Party?

Movement from the corner of his eye pulled him away. A young girl – eighteen, maybe nineteen; but who knew these days? – was leaving a room, her hair slightly mussed. Her lips were swollen and she looked out of breath. Her dress was no less stunning, but was wrinkled and out of place, as if she had dressed in a rush.

All became obvious when an older man followed her out, adjusting his tie. His hair was wild, face flushed and eyes lidded. He must have been twenty years her senior, at the very least.

_What in the name of..._

Harry made sure to remain still, leaning against the wall as they moved by. He watched as they made their way back downstairs before continuing. He opened the door to the room that they had just vacated, his mouth quirking in distaste as the smell of sweat and sex assaulted his nose. The rest of the doors he tried were locked firmly and he had a feeling each and every one of them were occupied in one way or another.

He nearly had a heart attack when a house-elf appeared with a pop. The elf was dressed in nothing but a pillow slip, but it looked healthy and well looked after, with particularly floppy ears and large eyes. It was carrying a fresh set of sheets.

He decided to follow it into one of the rooms, which was empty like the first. But it can't have been empty for long, the bed rumpled and damp. The elf went about its business, waving a hand. The blankets and sheets vanished, only to be replaced with the set it had been carrying. Another wave rearranged the pillows and another cleared the air.

The small creature turned, ready to leave, and then stopped dead. It stared up at him in shock, eyes wide and rounder then usual. With a dull ache, Harry was reminded of Dobby.

"Who is you!"

"...crap."

A flash of red and the elf collapsed in a heap. He forgot that house-elves had incredible vision, much better than that of a human. While the small creature probably hadn't been able to see any of his features, it would have seen enough. Glancing around, he quickly stuffed the limp elf into a closet before leaving swiftly.

He spent a couple more minutes wandering the hall before he started back toward the office. The foyer was mostly empty when he happened a glance, the party having moved to more comfortable arrangements. The door he approached was slightly ajar, something that he failed to notice, pushing into the room and closing the door behind him.

He then came to halt.

Pansy was seated before the desk, face twisted in anger. Blaise Zabini was standing over her calmly but if not for the wand he trained on the small witch, Harry had a feeling the dark skinned man would be in a world of hurt. To his left, Daphne Greengrass stood, looking just as enraged as Pansy did, but her eyes were trained on Harry – or rather, where he should be.

Then he felt something prod him in the back sharply. A wand.

"Move and I take you down."

Astoria Greengrass.

Another sharp poke and his disillusionment charm failed, revealing his identity with a snap. It left his skin feeling oily and uncomfortable.

"Potter," Blaise began, frowning in mild surprise. He looked immaculate in his pitch black dress robes, tie and white undershirt, the tailored clothing hugging his broad shouldered frame to perfection. From what Harry could remember of old muggle films he witnessed in his youth, the former Slytherin house member wouldn't look out of place in a James Bond flick. The man knew how to dress. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't have you arrested?"

"You really have to ask that?" was Harry's simple reply. "You alright, Parkinson?"

"Fine."

"Find out anything useful?"

"As a matter of fact-"

"Shut it." Daphne snapped, drawing her wand. She looked a lot less attractive with a snarl. "You two have no _idea-_"

"Actually, I have a pretty good idea-"

Harry stopped with a grunt when Astoria's wand dug into his kidney. That was definitely going to bruise.

"What are you doing here?" the dark-skinned wizard asked. "I don't appreciate people breaking into my home. And how did you get by the protections?"

"Protections?"

In answer to his question, Pansy quickly tossed him a small coin before anyone could react. Harry caught it easily, running his thumb over the small grooves that littered the surface. He could feel a peculiar magic imbedded in it, something old.

"All the guests have one of those," she explained. "You cant get in the door without one-ahh!"

Harry frowned. Daphne had struck Pansy with a rather vicious backhand, the crack of skin on skin sounding painfully loud in the sudden silence. She cradled her cheek, her pale skin blooming red from the strike.

"Do that again," he said simply, glaring. "I dare you."

The fired up witch glared right back, while Astoria jabbed him warningly. Blaise remained calm, his wand poised perfectly still. Pansy was rather lucky he hadn't cursed her when she moved to throw the coin.

"Enough." Blaise uttered. "You have seen too much."

Time seemingly paused for an instant, Harry blinking in shock as he realised what was about to happen. He moved without hesitation, his left arm crossing his torso, his palm twisting around his body and taking aim behind him. Astoria yelled in surprise as he hit her point blank with a banishing charm, the small woman being launched at the wall with bone shuddering force. She slumped to the ground, dazed from the impact.

As quick as he was able, he pulled his wand free from his pocket.

"_Obliv-_" Blaise began, only halfway through the incantation when his desk pivoted around on one leg, the hard wood slamming into his hip with a sickening crunch. The wizard tumbled wildly over the surface of the desk, falling to the floor with a scream, wand slipping from his grip as he hit the floor.

A streak of red bounced off a hastily conjured shield, Daphne shrieking in rage as she followed up with several more spells, becoming increasingly angry when they simply bounced away. She scrambled back as Pansy leapt to her feet, diving for Blaise's outer robe pocket where her wand peeked out innocently. Daphne tried to stop her with several spells, but Harry moved his shield charm to Pansy, protecting her back.

Wand in hand, Pansy snarled off a variety of curses, the two witches exchanging spellfire at a rapid pace, the walls shaking with every deflected spell.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Harry spun, facing Astoria and avoiding her disarming spell. He retaliated in kind, moving when her shield charm sent it right back at him. She tried to trip him up, summoning the chair from behind him, but he neatly stepped aside and without even looking, banished it toward Blaise, who was attempting to get up with the help of the desk. The heavy frame hit him dead-on, knocking him unconscious.

"Nice one," Harry quipped, swatting away a spell that exploded against the ceiling on impact. Plaster rained down all around them. "But you aren't fast enough."

The carpet bucked and tore itself up off the floorboards, attempting to smother him like some sort of demented Lethifold. When it dove for him, he incinerated it with a quick flick of his wand, then nailed her in the shoulder with a rather painful stinging hex. She flinched, stumbling from the pain, but didn't stop - a gout of flame spewing from her wand.

He countered with a jet of water, extinguishing the fire and soaking her robes thoroughly in the process. Her face became strained with anger, but she remained relatively calm - unlike her sister, who was shrieking spell after spell in her duel with Pansy. Her eyes looked slightly wild, her pretty face twisted in loathing. Harry expected her anger to hinder her spell casting, cause her to make a mistake, but she didn't miss a beat, going spell for spell with her much calmer though still angry opponent. He was reminded of Bellatrix Lestrange - not in personality, but in her talent of revelling in her baser emotions while duelling.

Astoria went on the offensive, stringing spell after spell together with perfection. Pansy had mentioned that Astoria was an excellent Defence Against the Dark Arts student. It was plain as day to see - her wand movements were exquisite, each spell cast with utmost care despite the speed of her casting. There was power and intent behind each spell, an unwavering belief that she would conquer her foe. Defence Against the Dark Arts was more than just the name suggested. It required an intimate knowledge of which you were defending, and the tiny girl was not shy about using spells that the Ministry of Magic would deem borderline illegal.

It was beautiful, in a way.

Unfortunately for her, if there were any field of magic where Harry might be considered a prodigy, a once-in-a-generation practitioner, it would have to be in the field of defence. Even Hermione could not match his prowess, the subject coming to him as naturally as flying a broom. While he was above average in most subjects, Defence Against the Dark Arts was where he truly excelled. Wizarding combat was second nature to him, Voldemort had seen to that.

She didn't stand a chance.

Within moments, her spells were defused and she was thrust on the defensive. Her wand moved wildly, shielding and parrying as best she could. Slowly but surely, Harry saw the onset of panic, her moves becoming desperate. She attempted to retaliate, but he smoothly countered everything she threw at him, finally finishing her off with a simple jinx. Her body became rigid, legs snapping together and arms freezing at her sides. She rocked forward, toppling over - but Harry caught her before she hit the ground, easing her down on her back gently.

"Take that you bitch!"

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Daphne sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed. Pansy was breathing heavily, chest heaving. Her face was slick with sweat, her hair tussled. Her robes were singed, torn and tattered in a few places, but she looked unharmed, though her cheek was starting to swell from Daphne's earlier slap.

"You okay?" he asked anyway, receiving a nod. The room was a mess of splintered wood, plaster chips and singed carpet. He was surprised that no one had come to investigate the ruckus, but there was a good chance that the room was sound proofed in some way. Not even a house-elf had checked in, meaning it was a rather strong spell, whatever it was.

"Help me with them, will you?" he asked, levitating Astoria toward Blaise. Pansy copied his actions with Daphne, though she was much rougher in her handling, the witch's head dragging against the exposed floorboards and ruined carpet. He bound all three of them tightly with conjured rope before summoning their wands.

He ignored Blaise's wand in favour of Astoria's. It was made of elm, the length similar to that of his own holly wand. That was as far as his abilities went in distinguishing the elements of a complete wand, more than he cared to absorb from Ollivander. It was well cared for, polished and unmarred. Running his fingers across the smooth wood, he felt the wand react to him in a positive way. It was willing to work with him, and work with him rather well.

With a flick, he released her from the full-body bind and revived the other two. Astoria looked at him with horror, at the ease in which her wand obeyed his command.

"So," he began, waiting for the dizziness of Blaise Zabini's likely concussion to abate somewhat. "You three have some explaining to do."

-x-**X**-x-

**Syaoran:** Okay, so this chapter took longer than it should have. Most of it was done weeks ago, but I got distracted by other things - most recently, Guild Wars 2. The chapter was going to be longer, but I thought this was a good place to finish for the time being. The next chapter will deal with the end of the case, and probably the start of the next one.

Hope you enjoy.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucius Malfoy was much how Harry remembered him from his youth. Despite all the hardship and embarrassment he had gone through in recent years, the man still carried a dignified air about him, with his eye catching pale-blonde hair groomed perfectly straight, and his elaborate, well tailored robes that complimented his skin tone and body. He was seated calmly in his rather imposing armchair, leather gloved hands folded neatly over the polished silver snake head of his cane. Harry knew from personal experience that it contained his wand, ready to be drawn at a moments notice. He was the picture perfect vision of a rich and powerful pureblood wizard.

Something that was different, though, was the lack of disdain that used to grace his face. His eyes no longer narrowed in barely concealed loathing, and he looked much more approachable because of this. Harry thought he looked much more at ease with life. Voldemort's true defeat had lifted a weight that the man probably didn't even know he possessed.

Narcissa was seated next to him, looking as fabulous as always, her striking features and tasteful application of make-up complimenting her husband. Her robes were of the highest quality, tight around the waist and bust, and flowing from her hips in elegant folds. Her long hair was pinned back in a rather elaborate bun, expensive jewellery adorning her neck and ears.

They were an incredibly fetching couple.

"Mister Potter," Lucius began, inclining his head politely. Harry still half-expected the man to follow that up with a curse, but none came. "How are you this fine evening? You look well."

Narcissa looked faintly amused and wasn't trying to hide it, her lips quirked in a small smile. Harry took a moment to admire the drawing room, now that he wasn't fearing for his life. Malfoy Manor was truly a splendour to behold - on the inside just as much as the outside. A healthy fire crackled beneath a handsome marble mantle piece, a large, gilded mirror mounted above. Various portraits adorned the walls, a large number containing blonde haired wizards and witches. Interestingly, not all of them moved with simulated life. There were muggle paintings present.

"I'm good," he finally answered, refocusing on the couple. It was rather strange, being complimented by a former Death Eater. "So, how about we get right down to business? Is Draco not available?"

Narcissa pursed her lips slightly, her amusement gone. "He is with his fiancé."

"Ah, I see," Harry nodded in acceptance. "So, shall we?"

"You have discerned the truth, then?" Lucius asked. He leaned forward eagerly. "For you would not have called this meeting for a simple update, yes?"

"Right," he confirmed, clapping. "Well, good news first - she isn't cheating on your son."

Narcissa looked genuinely relieved at that, sitting back and closing her eyes. Lucius nodded slowly, but was frowning.

"Good news first? So there is bad news?"

Narcissa opened her eyes and glanced at her husband. Harry just nodded in response.

"Well?" the older man questioned, somewhat impatiently. "What is it, then?"

"Astoria and her sister, Daphne... well," There was no way to soften what he was about to say, so he just got on with it. "They are running a brothel."

The silence that followed was almost absolute, if not for the hungry flames and popping wood in the hearth. The Malfoy couple were completely still, faces blank and eyes pinned on Harry with such intensity that he had to fight the urge to fidget. Almost a minute passed like this, a long, incredibly uncomfortable minute that Harry wished never to repeat when finally, Lucius spoke.

"What?"

Harry couldn't blame him. How does one react to such news?

"Blaise Zabini is involved, as well."

They continued to stare at him.

"Draco doesn't know about it - at least, according to Astoria," he continued, if only to fill in the silence. "And it's been going on for a while now - a year or two. They are making quite a lot of money and have some pretty high profile clients."

"Harry," Narcissa spoke, pinning him with a powerful look. "Are you taking this to the Ministry?"

It was a fair question. She was worried about the scandal. Their family had been through hell in recent times and this would only make it worse. In the muggle world, prostitution was not illegal in the United Kingdom - and it wasn't any different in the wizarding world, either. The act of exchanging money for sex was perfectly legal, but the taboo that went with it was strong - in both worlds. The running of a brothel, however, _was _illegal.

The Greengrass sisters would be in a lot of trouble if word got out, not to mention Blaise. The only reason they hadn't already been caught was because of those enchanted coins Pansy managed to pilfer when the duo broke in. They were much like the ones Hermione had whipped up for Dumbledore's Army, but much more powerful and deadly. Anyone with a coin could not speak of the brothel, write about it, or in any other way reveal its location or existence under penalty of death. It was extreme, but all customers and workers were informed beforehand and Obliviated if they didn't agree to the terms. It was their choice. Apparently, Blaise was quite nifty with memory charms. Lockhart would be so proud.

The brothel was Unplottable and had a whole host of other security spells placed over it that it was pretty much impossible to discover what was going on, and impossible to enter the property unless you had a coin. That was, if you didn't find a loophole.

Harry knew that Daphne's house would be receiving significant upgrades in the near future so nothing like that could happen again. He idly wondered if they knew about side-along house-elf travel.

After a few moments, he shrugged. "Not my problem. All their workers are of age and aren't being forced against their own will, so I have nothing against what they are doing. I'm not an Auror anymore."

The elder woman looked much more at ease after his words, sagging slightly in her chair. Lucius reached over with a gloved hand and gave her shoulder a soft squeeze. It was such a tender action that Harry felt somewhat embarrassed in having witnessed it, coughing awkwardly to gain their attention.

"Well - that's it. I'll let myself out."

He stood, nodding to them both. He was almost at the door when Narcissa's voice stopped him.

"Harry,"

He turned.

"Thank you."

He smiled. "No problem."

It didn't take him long to return to Hogsmeade. The evening air was chilly, but much warmer than in recent weeks. The end of winter was fast approaching and soon spring would reign supreme. Admittedly, it was his favourite time of year. That transition period, where the days started to slowly become longer and the nights shorter, where the trees would flourish and the sky's are more often than not clear of cloud.

And then Hogwarts would be out for the year.

Hogsmeade was always busier when school was out. Children visiting over the holidays with their families, buying things that couldn't be found at Diagon Alley. The pubs started making just as much money with food as they did with drink. The village just seemed much more alive.

He was looking forward to it.

He waved at an old lady who reminded him of Neville's grandmother - it was probably the giant bird on her hat - and stepped inside his store, to be greeted by Pansy.

"So?" she asked. "How did it go?"

She was seated behind his desk, a bottle of butterbeer in her hand. Another was sitting on the desk, unopened - waiting for him. He nodded in thanks and popped the top, taking in a generous mouthful.

"As well as could be expected," he replied. "Shocked doesn't seem to do it justice."

Harry noticed she looked to be in a stellar mood, almost giggling at his words. He hadn't seen her this happy very often. Considering that just the other day, Daphne Greengrass bitch-slapped her across the face, he thought this was a good thing. "No kidding - Lucius didn't flip his lid?"

"I think they were just relieved their son wasn't being betrayed, but I'm sure they'll be having words with Astoria very soon. I can't see Narcissa Malfoy being one to let something like this go without doing _something_."

"I guess you're right - oh!" the young woman exclaimed suddenly, startling him. His butterbeer sloshed dangerously close to the lip. "I talked to Blaise today - he said it is all set up."

"Yeah?"

That was good news.

While Harry never intended to reveal their little business venture to the Ministry, he hadn't told them that. After their little duel, they had been at his mercy in more ways than one. Blaise - normally calm and composed - had fallen all over himself to make sure Harry saw the value in having him on his side. The amount of information, the dark skinned man had argued, that he could gather for him was priceless.

Harry thought so too.

Tongues tended to wag at parties, probably more so at a brothel - in more ways than one. It was too good to pass up.

Of course, it was to be kept completely confidential. They didn't want their clients knowing that they were passing their dirty little secrets on to Harry Potter. He didn't have a problem with keeping it all hush-hush. Information was valuable, even if you couldn't smack someone over the head with it.

From now on, he'd receive an anonymous letter every week with any juicy gossip that Blaise thought could be useful.

Pansy finished her bottle, vanishing it with a flick of her wand. He watched as she gathered her things and made for the door.

"Night Potter."

"See you in the morning."

Harry decided to sort through some mail when she left, fetching another butterbeer from the kitchen when he finished his first. There were a few thanking him for whatever job he did for them - and a few thanking Pansy. There were several more job requests which he quickly scanned. One of them looked pretty interesting and he put it aside. It wasn't until he neared the bottom that he spied a strange looking envelope.

The bright white paper stood out amongst all the parchment. It was also much smaller, slimmer, lighter, and covered in muggle post stamps - too many stamps. He stared at it for a moment, surprised. His name was written on the front in blue ink, but not from a quill - but from a pen. The handwriting was also familiar in a distant sort of way, like he had seen it many times before, once upon a time, but it had been years upon years since he had seen it.

Interest piped, he tore it open and pulled out a few sheets of lined paper. He quickly started reading.

"...huh."

-x-**X**-x-

"I sent that letter months ago. I wasn't even sure it would make it to you - I didn't have an address. Do your kind even have letterboxes?"

Harry's lips quirked in amusement. "We use owls, remember? I used to keep one in my room."

"Oh! That ruddy thing - you still have it?"

Harry's smile faded, replaced by a frown. "No - she.. uh, she died a long time ago."

"Oh," the silence was a bit awkward. "Sorry."

He glanced at his cousin, Dudley Dursley. The years had been very kind to his cousin. He was still very much larger than life as he had been in his teenage years and before, though it seemed it was more muscle these days than fat. He looked much more healthy because of it. His blonde hair was cut short and neat, and his face was clean shaven.

He no longer looked like a pig in a wig.

"It's fine."

Dudley nodded, his eyes focused on the road. Harry still found it somewhat surreal that he was sitting in a car that his cousin was driving, but here they were. Once upon a time, he was pretty sure Dudley would rather run him over with a car than give him a ride. And once upon a time, he would have turned his large cousin into a rat rather than trust him behind the wheel of any vehicle he was in.

But things change a lot when you get older.

"I'm guessing that it just floated around at the post office until someone recognised my name," Harry explained, still rather unsure how the letter had found him in the first place. Magic was a funny thing. "Maybe a muggle-born working there or something. I have no idea."

Harry gazed out the window, watching as familiar landmarks from his youth passed by. They were getting close.

"So how are things?" Harry asked, trying to make small talk.

"Good, good. I'm working in construction." He looked rather proud about this, puffing his chest out. Harry couldn't help but laugh. Typical Dudley. "It pays well. Rachel likes to shop a lot."

"Rachel?"

Dudley looked abashed for a moment. "Oh, er - my fiancé."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, smiling. He never gave much thought to his cousin actually finding someone. "Congratulations."

"Thanks."

Harry gestured to the baby seat in the back. He hadn't thought twice about it when he first got in the car, but now... "She expecting?"

"Ah, no - already born. She is nearly two."

Harry hadn't been expecting that. "Wow - what's her name?"

All of a sudden, Dudley looked rather nervous. One of his hands left the steering wheel and rubbed the back his neck awkwardly. "Uh - Lily."

Harry stared at him.

"I always liked that name," he explained hesitantly. "Mum... thought it was a good choice."

The next several minutes passed in awkward silence.

"Mum and dad have tried everything," Dudley explained suddenly, rounding a corner, then another, before pulling into Privet Drive. "It was my idea to contact you - this is your type of thing."

Harry felt twelve again as they pulled into the driveway of number four. The garden had changed a little - some more colour here and there, and some new plants - and Uncle Vernon's car was a much newer model, but everything else was exactly as he remembered it. Harry thought he could still see the damage around his old bedroom window, where the Weasley twins had torn the bars off in his daring escape before his second year.

"You still haven't told me what is going on."

"Trust me. Words can't describe what you are about to see."

Harry reckoned his cousin was being overly dramatic. Funnily enough, he found himself agreeing with Dudley moments later.

Harry wasn't too surprised by things these days. He had seen and done too much in this world to let much faze him anymore. Maybe that was why Dumbledore was so calm all the time. His mentor had seen much more than Harry had - and possibly ever would. Age afforded more than just wisdom.

This, though – this ranked pretty high up on his list of unbelievable shit that happened to and/or around him.

"A ghost," Harry said blankly, staring at the scene before him with ever mounting shock. "How the bloody hell is she a ghost?"

It wasn't so much that a ghost existed that rattled the famous wizard, since they were rather common place, especially at Hogwarts – rather, it was the _person_ who the ghost happened to _be_.

"Well," Dudley began. "She died about a year ago – car crash, you see? A few months later... well, you can see what turned up."

Harry blinked, before facing his cousin. "Why wasn't I told?"

Dudley shrugged. "It's not like you would have cared."

Harry nodded, admitting as such. She was only family through marriage. "True – but they've had a ghost in their kitchen for how long? Why didn't you contact me sooner?"

"Don't you think we tried, boy," Vernon Dursley made his presence known, stomping down the stairs like a rampaging rhino. His uncle looked a little older but was no less intimidating, retaining his moustache to great effect. Though Harry noticed the man had lost a considerable amount of weight. He was now simply big instead of obese. "It isn't easy to contact you _freaks_with normal, natural methods."

"Charming as always, uncle."

"Don't get smart with me," the man bristled, giving him a stern look. "You aren't big enough that I can't clip you around the ears."

Harry snorted, facing the kitchen once more. "Where's Aunt Petunia?"

"Food shopping," Dudley replied. "Had to get out of the house, Marge was driving her barmy."

"Yeah," Harry said, stepping into the kitchen. "Ghosts can do that."

It wasn't just the outside of number four that remained the same. Immaculate as always, it seemed that the only things that had changed over the years were a handful of new pictures, a few pieces of furniture, and a rather impressive wall mounted flat-screen television that made even Harry somewhat envious.

Oh, and the unpleasant spirit of Aunt Marge, who was seated at the table like she owned the place. But Harry liked to think she was a part of the new furniture.

"You!"

Harry grumbled at the irritable ghost. "Yeah, me."

Vernon and Dudley remained in the hallway, peering in quietly – probably anticipating that things were going to get ugly, and get ugly fast. Harry could see where they were coming from.

The last time he'd seen Marge, he had turned her into a human balloon. It hadn't been on purpose, but... yeah. It was probably a smart move to stay out of their way.

"What are you doing here, you little ingrate! Don't think I've forgotten what you did to me! Freak! Monster!"

Harry tilted his head. "You remember that? Huh – I guess memory charms fail after death."

"Devil spawn," the large woman rose from her seated position at the table. "Vernon!" she snapped, spying her brother. "Why you never left this filth at an orphanage, I'll never understand!"

Harry sighed.

"Look, woman – you're dead, so why don't you move on like a good little ghost? We had enough of you in life. Take a hint."

"Don't you talk to me like that!"

Harry was pretty sure he heard suppressed laughter coming from his cousin, but he ignored it in favour of pulling out his wand. Marge froze at the sight, probably remembering what it was from her recovered memories. The Ministry Obliviators wouldn't have been shy about waving them in her face, after all.

He then noticed something odd.

"Why is the room filled with crucifixes?"

He wasn't sure how he had missed them at first, but he supposed they fit in rather well with the rest of the room. Several white crosses were either nailed to the walls or hanging in some other way, giving the impression that the Dursley's were highly religious - or rather, crazy zealots. They blended in nicely with the egg-white coloured wallpaper and cupboards.

"Mum hired a priest," Dudley explained, head still peeking around the corner.

"Huh."

"Didn't work out." he added rather unnecessarily.

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Get away from me!" Marge shrieked, shooting through the ceiling before he could react.

"Great," Harry groused, glaring at the spot she phased through. "This'll be fun."

A few minutes later found the Dursley's outside along with Harry, rummaging through a backpack he had left in Dudley's car. Dudley and Vernon watched warily as the wizard stuffed his entire arm inside, reaching around blindly. The dimensions of the bag made the act look decidedly strange.

"You know," he began, pulling out a book and placing it on the ground. The title read _Dealing with Spectres_. Being friends with Hermione Granger meant that he had a ton of books on all manner of subject, and unfortunately - or fortunately in this case - had been press ganged into reading them. Luckily, he could fit almost all of them inside his bag when needed and could draw on them on a moments notice. "This should be impossible."

"Everything to do with you is bloody impossible," Vernon grumbled, moustache twitching rapidly. "Hurry it up, would you? I don't want the neighbours to see you."

"Only wizards are capable of becoming ghosts," he clarified, ignoring his uncles whining. He pulled out a handful of candles and set them aside. "I'm pretty sure this is new territory – a muggle ghost."

"So all those ghost stories you hear about – they were all magical people?" Dudley asked, glancing at the ever growing pile of objects. After a few moments, Harry pulled out the last thing he would need – a stick of chalk. Gathering all his supplies, he gestured for his relatives to follow him inside, bag slung over his shoulder.

"Yep," Harry chirped. "The real stories, anyway."

Entering the lounge, he dumped everything on the coffee table.

"So, I've never done this before," Harry warned, drawing a muttered 'useless' from his uncle. "Oh hush – it can't be too difficult." Harry couldn't explain the sudden chill he got when he said that. "I haven't done it before, but I've seen others do it. Our government has an entire division that deals with these sorts of things."

"Just don't break anything," Vernon grumbled. "It's bad enough that you are doing strange things in our house."

"You're welcome," Harry replied dryly, before idly levitating the coffee table and couches to the far side of the room. Summoning the chalk and book, he got to work, drawing a rather complex array onto the carpet. Being carpet, it was fairly easy to draw. Examining his handy work, he compared it to the one in the book.

They looked alike. Somewhat. Possibly.

Vernon looked annoyed that his idiot nephew was drawing on his perfect carpet. Dudley, on the other hand, snorted.

Harry flipped him the bird.

"Okay," he admitted. "This might take longer than I thought."

And it really did. An hour had passed and he was just putting the finishing touches on his fifth attempt when Aunt Petunia arrived home, Dudley having taken a brief leave of absence to pick up his dotting mother. Her face didn't exactly light up in joy upon seeing him, but Harry could tell she was relieved at his presence - which was a first. She wasn't too impressed with what he had done to her carpet, though.

"That better wash out," she stated firmly, frowning. Unlike Dudley and Vernon, nothing had changed about her at all - at least, physically. Her arms were loaded with plastic bags bulging with groceries and Harry was silently impressed that she didn't topple over. "Or you'll be buying us new carpet."

"Nice to see you too, Aunt Petunia."

She huffed, but he knew there was no true venom behind it. He carefully placed the candles in key positions and then consulted the book one last time. She left to put away the food, while Vernon cautiously watched from the hall. Dudley was seated on one of the moved couches, looking rather eager.

"Want to see a bit of magic, Dud?"

"As long as it doesn't give me a pigs tail, Potter."

Harry smirked and began reading slowly and clearly, the latin words spilling from his lips almost effortlessly. Every so often, he would pause and flick his wand, lighting one of the candles, before beginning where he left off. The flames began to rise, turning from orange to blue, an eerie green smoke curling toward the ceiling as the wick burnt rapidly. A soft, gentle breeze passed through the room as his chanting reached a fever pitch, the chalked symbols beginning to glow. The flames darkened and become purple, reaching ever higher as they flared brightly.

And then there was an explosion.

Harry flinched, the breath knocked out of him as he hit the floor. His ears rung painfully and he was momentarily blind, seeing nothing but bright white. He clapped his hands over his ears, blinking rapidly as ever so slowly, the Dursley's living room came into fragmented view.

The place was a mess. The walls were cracked, the front window shattered, and the wall-mounted television was no longer wall-mounted. The reason for his fragmented vision was the large, branching cracks that run through each lens, his glasses all but completely smashed.

Aunt Petunia was in the doorway to the kitchen, mouth moving frantically with a look of horror on her face - but Harry heard nothing but the constant ringing of his abused eardrums. The couch Dudley had been seated on was tipped upside down, his cousin buried underneath in a disoriented heap, while Uncle Vernon was slumped in the hall, rubbing at his eyes.

Harry struggled to his feet, casting a look out the front window. Muggles were gathering on the lawn from the neighbouring houses and without thought, he moved towards the front door.

He needed to deal with them first.

"Petunia?" an elderly lady called, looking worried. "Is everything alright, dear?"

He'd never had to use the memory charm on so many people at once before, but he managed, drawing their attention with a simple, "May I have your attention, please."

He'd have to inform the Ministry about this, at some point.

That bit of spell work out of the way, he sent them packing with a few muggle repelling spells. They wouldn't remember a thing and now all of them had sudden urgent appointments that could not be delayed. Tapping his glasses, each lens made a snapping sound as they mended, the twisted frames straightening out. Uncle Vernon accosted him at the door.

"Boy!" he almost screamed, face livid. Harry, for once, felt he deserved it. "You! YOU! My house - what have you done, you little shit!"

Harry took a step back, just in case his uncle took a swing at him. He hadn't heard his uncle swear like that in a very long time. Vernon had never struck Harry in a fit of rage before - but Harry had never pushed him this far before, either. Not that his uncle would get far, not with his wand in hand as it was.

"Don't worry Uncle Vernon, I'll fix it."

Vernon was starting to turn purple. "You better fix it you little ingrate - or there will be hell to pay! Do you hear me? I don't care if you turn me into a horse! Now get in there and-"

Harry decided to ignore him for the moment and went back into the house, then into the lounge. Aunt Petunia was no longer yelling and was staring in shock, while Dudley was looking around in awe. Harry blinked.

Suspended in the air and bound by wispy green tendrils was the ghost of Aunt Marge.

"Oh hey, the spell worked."

"You!" Marge shrieked, thrashing wildly against the magic that now bound her. Harry was reminded of a walrus caught in a fishing net. "Let me go this instant!"

"No can do, Aunt Marge. They want you out, so you'll be coming with me."

"Vernon! Vernon!" she called out hopelessly.

Taking a deep breath, he waved his wand overhead, before bringing it down in a sharp slashing motion. Everything started moving at once. The couches flipped themselves back over, the flat-screen television re-mounted itself and the screen began to mend, the front window starting piecing itself back together, and the large cracks in the wall vanished like they had never been there. The room was a flurry of motion and Aunt Petunia squeaked when several picture frames marched by her feet in an orderly fashion. In only a few moments, the room was looking brand new again.

Harry really loved the mending charm.

He then focused his attention on Marge.

-x-**X**-x-

In the end, Marge was placed in an unbreakable containment device - better known as a potions vial. It looked very much like a pensieve memory, only murkier and tinted green with the effects of the binding spell. He was still unsure on what to do with her, but he was confident that he would figure something out. For the time being, he'd just keep her on his desk or something.

In a hilariously awkward conversation, Vernon and Petunia thanked him for his help. As anyone could imagine, it was strained and painful, but Harry felt rather happy afterwards. Dudley also invited him to his daughters birthday which was taking place in about a months time. That had been completely unexpected.

"I'll need your help with something," his cousin explained, seeing him off. The sky was just beginning to darken, evening well underway. "Something important."

"Mysterious much?"

"Rachel wants to meet you, as well," he continued, rambling. "And, well, you're Lily's uncle kind of and her birthday is in a month, so how about it?"

Harry found himself nodding. "Uh, sure. Where do you live?"

Harry wasn't sure what his cousin needed help with, but it couldn't be too difficult. The journey home was quick and uneventful after saying his goodbyes. Pansy had already left, and Harry really didn't have much more to do. He placed the vial containing Aunt Marge on his desk, ignoring the way it shook and rolled around. She wasn't getting out.

Setting his bag down, he made himself a cup of tea before retiring for the night, making sure to lock up. He was just slipping under the covers when he noticed a letter sitting on his bedside table.

It was a simple piece of parchment, folded neatly in half. Picking it up, he unfolded it and recognised Ron's handwriting immediately. He briefly wondered why Ron hadn't sent him an owl. It would have easily reached him at the Dursley's.

The letter itself was short and to the point, and worryingly vague.

_Harry, something has happened at the Ministry. Contact me as soon as you can._

That didn't sound good. Not at all.

-x-**X**-x-

**AN: **I don't know if anyone has noticed so far, but in this story I am taking subtle - and not so subtle - jabs at some fairly well known clichés and fanon tropes. From the start, this was never a very serious story and as I write, I find myself increasing driven to take advantage, dismiss, point out, make fun of and even enhance various ideas that have floated around in the fandom since forever.

Someone mentioned that Pansy was a blank slate and basically an OC - that is the point. Typical Slytherin girl cliché. Another is Ron standing by Harry in his business venture while Hermione is against it. How many stories have you read where Ron abandons Harry while Hermione stays with him, through thick and thin? I have lost count, myself. Granted, it has some basis in canon, but here I have done the complete reverse. More will be done on this angle in the future.

Another is the whole 'ice queen' Daphne Greengrass thing that has become huge. There are maybe a handful of stories where this _isn't_ the case. It's almost law. I turned her into an impulsive girl who is very emotional, and acts on her emotions. The complete opposite of how she is seen by most of the HP fanfiction community.

Typically in stories, the goblins love Harry. Especially in Indy!Harry fics. In this, they despise him. Fear him. Grudgingly respect him.

Also, Harry's thoughts about Vernon never hitting him? That was a strike towards all those stories where Vernon beats the ever loving shit out of him.

There are a few more, but I'll leave you guys to figure them out. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

Ron and Hermione Weasley lived together in a small, two bedroom flat in the middle of London. Unlike the place that Pansy Parkinson called home, it was in a muggle building with muggle electricity and muggle neighbours. Hermione wanted to reconnect with her former world and live amongst the mundane, like a regular woman would. Ron had been rather nervous about it at first, but it hadn't taken the young man long to adjust - mostly. He was very careful about casting magic, but on occasion he still said some rather outrageous things within earshot of regular folk.

Their home was modestly furnished with a mixture of magical and muggle appliances. There was a telephone that Harry knew Ron still struggled with sitting on the kitchen counter, and a rather nice television was situated in the corner of the lounge. Next to a muggle stereo sat a smaller, older looking radio that Harry knew was connected to the wizarding wireless network and where Ron liked to listen to Chudley Cannon games, and on the wall was a smaller version of the Weasley family's clock, showing how everyone was doing. All the hands were pointed towards home, with the exception of one - Harry's was listed as travelling.

The couches were modern and leather, and occupied by a frowning Hermione.

"Hermione." he greeted with a nod.

"Harry." she replied in turn.

Ron coughed at the following silence.

"So what is this all about, Ron?" Harry asked, turning to his red-haired friend. The taller man sat down next to his wife, while Harry elected to remain standing. The pair of them were in their pyjamas and looked like they were ready for bed. It wasn't terribly late but he knew the both of them worked fairly long hours. Hell, he'd been about to get into bed before he found Ron's note. "I found your letter."

Ron was as blunt as a sledgehammer. "Trilly is dead."

Harry blinked. "What happened?"

Auror Trilly Proudmere was a rather hardworking man. They hadn't worked together very often, but he found him pleasant enough. While he wasn't the most skilled Auror on the roster, he more than made up for it with his enthusiasm for the job. He wasn't much older than Harry and Ron - and had, in fact, attended Hogwart's during their own time there. He had been in Percy's year, and a member of Hufflepuff house.

"He was in Diagon Alley," Ron began to explain. "Just doing a little shopping, you know? It was his day off. Anyway, he was in Flourish and Blotts, picking up some books when a spell he cast backfired. Killed him on the spot and injured the clerk."

"His spell _what_?" Harry sounded incredulous. It wasn't the first time a backfired spell had killed someone, but that was typically when complex spell work was involved. "What spell did he cast?"

"Levitation charm, according to witnesses."

"Are you kidding me? Wait," Harry paused, frowning. "According to witnesses? Didn't you test his wand?"

"I was getting to that. When we arrived on the scene, his wand was no where to be found. We checked everywhere. We thought it might have rolled under one of the bookshelves but nope, we couldn't find it anywhere."

"Did anyone pick it up?"

Ron shrugged. "They might have, but we checked everyone that we could - none of them had it. And this isn't even the weirdest part. When we went and informed his wife about what happened, we found his wand. Apparently he had left it at home, in his sock drawer. She found it while doing the laundry."

"So he had a second wand?"

"According to his wife, he didn't. We even went and asked Ollivander. You know how he remembers all his wands - creepy as hell. He said he only ever sold one wand to Trilly, though that isn't to say he could have bought one somewhere else or picked one up in another way."

Harry decided to sit, mulling that over. Something wasn't right, he could feel it. Seamus once singed his eyebrows and burnt their feather in class when he botched a levitation charm, in their first year. It wasn't impossible for someone to mess it up. But someone of Trilly's experience, and with such a violent reaction?

It was surreal.

Could it have been sabotage? Did someone want to remove Trilly? And if someone did, then why? The man wasn't exactly known for rocking the boat and if anyone held a grudge for any reason, Harry couldn't remember ever hearing about it. Or was it just extremely bad luck?

That seemed unlikely.

"Not that I don't appreciate you telling me all this, but should you really be discussing this with me?" Harry asked, scratching his chin. "I'm no longer an Auror."

Ron just rolled his eyes. "Really, Harry? Who are you going to tell? Not that the Daily Prophet doesn't already know about the situation already - their offices are right there in Diagon Alley. Anyway, I was hoping you could help me out."

"Help you out?"

"He wants you to try and find out more about that wand," Hermione finally spoke, face carefully neutral. "A lot of the contacts that you amassed don't want to help the Ministry anymore, not since you left."

She was trying to make him feel bad. It was cute, Harry thought, giving his friend a smile. Her eyes narrowed.

"Mundungus?" he asked, turning to Ron.

Ron nodded. "For a start. Maybe one of them sold a second hand wand to Trilly, I don't know. It's worth a shot."

"Sure, no problem. It'll cost you, though."

Ron blinked, and even Hermione looked a little surprised at that. "Really?"

Harry gained a thoughtful look, blatantly counting with his fingers. "Yeah, a hundred galleons sounds about right."

"What!?"

Harry snorted in amusement at the look on his friend's face. "I'm joking, relax. You get friend rates - forty-five cheap enough?"

Ron gave him the middle finger. "Har har, very funny, Harry."

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded, slapping his hand away.

"I'll look for Mundgunus first thing in the morning, alright? He shouldn't be too difficult to find, I'll just sic Kreacher on him." Harry stood, "Walk me to the door, Hermione?"

Ron gave his wife a nervous look, while she just stared at Harry stonily. After a few moments, she stood up and marched towards the door, brushing by him without a word. Harry gave Ron a thumbs up and followed.

This was long overdue.

"It was nice seeing you," Harry commented, coming to halt near the door. She had it open, expecting him to leave right away. "I've missed talking to you."

She remained silent.

"I know you think I'm wasting my talents," he continued. "But I feel like I'm doing rather well. People are really happy to have someone that can help them out, you know?"

If there was one trait that both friends shared - and they more than shared just one - it was their stubbornness. When Hermione thought she was in the right, she stuck to her guns all the way - as did Harry. While they didn't come into conflict very often, Harry just had to recall his sixth year and how they had acted to remember that sometimes, the pair of them could be pretty stupid for such supposedly intelligent people.

"I'm rather surprised no one has done something like this before. Pansy is enjoying it, as well."

That got a reaction, her face breaking into a scowl at the mention of his assistant.

"Working for yourself is really refreshing-"

"But you could be so much more!" she burst out, startling him. She gave him a stern look. "You are a great wizard, Harry - you could be anything you want to be. I just don't understand why you'd throw away such a promising career so you can gallivant around doing silly little jobs! They would have made you Head Auror any year now!"

"Hermione," he said softly.

"And then after a few more years, they'd probably make you head of the entire department! It's nothing less than you deserve, after all you have done. The Aurors have never been stronger and a lot of it is because of you."

"Hermione," he repeated.

"And then you could become Minister for Magic soon enough. Kingsley won't have the job forever. Heavens know we need to keep competent wizards in the Ministry or we'll get another Fudge!"

"You really have this all planned out, don't you?" he asked a bit louder, fairly amused. Her cheeks grew a little rosy, realising she had been on a small rant. "Are you finished?"

"Oh, do shut up."

Harry laughed.

"Listen," he began, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I could do all those things, if I wanted. Become the best damn Head Auror there ever was, turn the entire department upside down and one day become head of our government, but you are forgetting something."

She blinked. "What am I forgetting?"

He smiled at her. "You know me - that is awfully boring. I need a little more excitement in my life."

She punched him in the shoulder. "Be serious!"

Harry rubbed his arm. She had quite a nice punch. No wonder she was able to deck Malfoy. "Okay, I'll be serious then - I wasn't happy. I joined the Aurors because it was expected of me. When McGonagall asked us what we wanted to do after we left Hogwarts, I didn't have anything - I had never even thought about life after school, not with Voldemort doing his level best to kill me. Being an Auror sounded good - I'd met Tonks and Moody, and thought why not? I'll be helping keep bad wizards off the streets. It all fit."

Hermione was listening carefully, and Harry noticed that even Ron, though he sat in the lounge some distance away, had decided to pay attention.

"So I did the whole travelling thing and then joined the Auror training program when I got back. And yeah, some of it was fun, but after we rounded up all the Death Eaters, it just didn't appeal to me anymore. Like my purpose was gone. So I quit. But I'm still that boy you went to school with for six years, and I still have that 'saving people thing' you once pointed out to me, so I didn't just go laze about on my arse - I decided that I would help people another way. Helping people isn't just about catching dark wizards or solving crimes - it's helping them with their gardens when they need a little more man power or fixing their enchanted clock because it's broken and other people charge ridiculous amounts of money to repair it."

"You're really happy now, aren't you?" she whispered.

Harry pulled her in swiftly, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She stiffened in shock before sagging against him, returning the hug with vigour.

"Bloody happy," he said, giving her a squeeze. "Happier than I've ever been. Travelling around the world was fun, but it wasn't home."

There was a moment of silence as they embraced, before, "I'm sorry about being such a cow about everything."

"Hey," he pulled back out of their embrace, giving her a stern look. "You were just worried for me, right? Anyway, you can make it up to me. Get me an extra awesome birthday present when the time comes."

She laughed, rubbing at her eyes. They had begun to water. "Okay."

"Well, I best be off. I'm knackered."

Harry gave a loud sigh as he left, the door closing with a soft click behind him. It felt really good to have that cleared up. While his life had been particularly busy lately and had kept him sufficiently distracted, Harry couldn't claim that Hermione's absence in his life in recent weeks had not been felt.

They'd been best friends since they were eleven years old. No matter how you cut it, her reluctance to accept his new way in life had affected him rather strongly.

But now everything was better again.

"Disappearing wands, huh?" he mumbled, riding the elevator to the bottom floor. Harry ignored the rather bland music that trickled from the speakers in the roof. "This should be interesting."

-x-**X**-x-

Early the next morning, the first thing Harry did after devouring a big English breakfast was call upon Kreacher. The house-elf appeared with a small pop, bowing low - so low that his long, pointy nose and floppy ears touched the floor.

"Master Harry, you called, sir?" he croaked.

"Kreacher, how is Grimmauld Place?" he asked, sorting through a pile of letters. Pansy was due within the next hour. After that, she could deal with them. "Keeping it clean, I hope."

"Of course, Master. Spotless," he answered, straightening up. He looked proud of this fact. "How may Kreacher serve today?"

Harry smiled at the house-elf. "I'm sure you'll enjoy this, Kreacher. I want you to find and bring Mundungus Fletcher to me. Remember him?"

Kreacher's face looked sour at the best of times, but Harry noticed the look of disdain that now graced his wrinkled face made it look particularly sinister, like some sort of gremlin. Kreacher nodded rapidly, his ears flopping.

"I do, Master. It will be Kreacher's pleasure, oh yes."

"Take your time. No need to rush this, okay?"

After a quick nod, the old house-elf vanished as quickly as he appeared.

Harry continued to sort letters in silence, extremely comfortable in his pink bathrobe. In no time at all, an hour passed and Pansy arrived, giving him an incredulous look as she passed through the door. She didn't even bother saying hello, just shaking her head like he was a lost cause and headed for her desk.

"What?" he asked slightly amused.

"Are you trying to emulate Dumbledore or something?"

Harry scratched his chin. "Not really - why?"

Pansy just gave him an 'are you stupid?' look.

"Don't like pink?"

"In small doses, yes. And not on a guy. You look like candy floss."

"Do you want to eat me?"

She gave him a disgusted glare. He laughed and levitated a pile of letters to her desk.

"Get started on those. I'll go get changed."

"Please do."

Giving her a lazy wave over the shoulder, he wandered up-stairs and into his bedroom, rummaging through his drawers for something to wear. For no reason in particular, he decided to go muggle, pulling out a pair of jeans and a rather fetching dark blue turtleneck. Getting dressed, he finished it off with a pair of rather plain white sneakers.

Bounding down the stairs, he stopped when he spotted a very familiar and very large frame filling the door.

"Hagrid!"

The half-man, half-giant had to pass through the door sideways, and duck several inches to avoid destroying the frame with his head. Pansy gave the large gameskeeper a long look, before busying herself with letter sorting. The man hadn't changed a bit in all the years Harry had known him. Large, bushy beard; long, wild hair, and a kind smiling face. As usual, he was clothed in various animal furs and thick leather hide.

"Heya Harry, how ye doing?" the man boomed, striding forward and wrapping him in a bone crushing hug. Harry winced, but returned the embrace. Hagrid really did forget his own strength sometimes. "I haven't seen ye in awhile - thought I'd stop by. I heard ye help people out in a pickle."

The giant let go, causing Harry to stumble a bit. Rubbing his ribs, it took a few moments for Harry to catch on. "I'm good - you have a job for me?"

"Right ye are - got a lil problem in the forest. Bloody Clabberts are causing a ruckus."

Harry blinked. "Clabberts? I didn't even know we had any in the Forbidden Forest."

Clabberts were a rather odd magical creature that resembled a monkey and - weirdly enough - a frog. They had smooth skin which was a mottled green, greatly enhancing their ability to blend in with their natural environment. They had long, powerful arms and legs, and webbed hands and feet that allowed them incredibly swift movement through trees. On their heads they sported two short white horns on either side, and possessed a wide, grinning mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. On the middle of their forehead, they had a large pustule which flashes red when they sense approaching danger.

Overall, they were rather harmless creatures who were extremely tricky to catch - though they could be very mischievous. They liked to collect trinkets if they could get their hands on them. The shinier, the better.

"We do. The lil blighters normally stay deep in the forest - but they breed like rabbits. We need to thin their numbers."

Harry bit his lip. "Thin their numbers?"

"Catch em, of course. There are plenty of reserves that'll take em. Their claw shavings are used in potions - very expensive. Hogwarts could use the gold."

Harry nodded. "Sure. I'll be happy to help. Just let me grab some things."

Some things were mainly his mokeskin pouch and the enlarged backpack he had taken to the Dursley's. Between the pair of them, they contained practically every useful item he owned - with the exception of his wand and the trinkets he kept on his shelf.

He had a feeling that his invisibility cloak was going to come in handy.

"You want to come along, Pansy?"

She gave him a lazy wave and a shake of the head. "I don't feel much like tramping through a filthy forest, thank you."

Harry rolled his eyes at Hagrid, who stifled his laugh with a loud cough.

"Have fun, then. If you see any jobs you want to do, go do them."

The walk from Hogsmeade afforded the two friends to catch up, as they hadn't had the opportunity to see each other in quite awhile. Harry had always been ridiculously busy when he worked for the Ministry and Hagrid, especially during the school year, could never leave the grounds of Hogwarts for more than a few hours - if he was lucky.

As they passed by the train station, they made for the tree line of the forest instead of the large, iron wrought gates that led to Hogwarts. The school was not their destination.

"Norberta is doing well," Hagrid commented, stepping over a felled tree. Harry had a little more difficulty, but managed. "Charlie sends me a letter every few months - she has found herself a mate and is ready to lay some eggs."

Harry smiled, remembering the tiny dragon they had hatched, all those years ago in Hagrid's hut. She had nearly taken off Ron's hand. "You didn't ask for one, did you?"

Hagrid chuckled nervously. "You know me too well, Harry. No harm in trying, is there? Even if I know they'll say no."

"It would be amazing for your classes, even if you couldn't keep them afterwards. The students could learn a lot from seeing a dragon being born. We did."

Harry knew he probably shouldn't be encouraging his friend with something like this, but being with him - together with Ron and Hermione - when Norberta was born was one of Harry's fondest moments from Hogwarts. Even if the little blighter had tried to set Hagrid's house on fire.

"How's Buckbeak?" he asked a few minutes later. They were approaching Hagrid's place - Harry could just make it out between the trees. Hogwarts was an amazing backdrop, as well as the Great Lake. "You think he still remembers me?"

"Of course he does - a Hippogriff never forgets. He's doing well, healthy as can be."

When they reached his hut, Hagrid briefly entered and returned with a large bundle of rope. Upon closer inspection, Harry realised it was a net. Hagrid also had his pink umbrella, which contained the broken pieces of his snapped wand.

He was about to inquire about the net when a loud bark drew his attention, followed by several rapid thumps - like something large and heavy was running towards him.

"Back Fang! Back!" Hagrid bellowed.

"Oh shit," Harry muttered, turning. He grunted, the wind rushing from his lungs as the large boarhound ploughed into him, the wizard and dog tumbling to the ground in a heap. "F-Fang, you heavy shit - get off!"

Fang barked, before licking his face wildly. Harry flinched; face screwing up as he covered in slobber. Wrestling with the massive dog was pointless - cowardly, he may be, but Fang was heavier and stronger than any dog had a right to be.

It took a few moments for Hagrid to pull the beast off of him.

"Nice to see you too, Fang." Harry greeted, standing up. His glasses were skewed and his entire front was drenched in saliva. Pulling his wand out, he gave it a quick flick, drying himself immediately. Fang barked.

"Get away, you ruddy dog," Hagrid forced the large animal into his hut, and then slammed the door behind it. "Sorry about that, Harry."

"It's okay," Harry shrugged. "He hasn't seen me in awhile. Should have expected it."

He waited for Hagrid to gather his things before they re-entered the forest. He hadn't noticed it before, but everything was rather still and silent. No bird song, no insects, not even a distant howl.

"It's a bit quiet, isn't it?"

Hagrid grunted. "Gets like that sometimes - usually a bad sign."

They walked together for some time, the eerie silence continuing all the while. The trees were gradually becoming thicker, covered in moss and creeping vines, the upper canopy casting wavering shadows and keeping out the majority of sunlight. The ground was moist and thick with plant life, and littered with tracks. Harry immediately recognised the familiar horse-like hoof marks of a Centaur, and a few others that he couldn't identify.

Wait a minute.

He paused for a moment, frowning.

"Are those-"

He laughed, cutting himself off. Hagrid gave him a questioning look, before seeing what caused his amusement. He joined him in his laughter.

Tire tracks.

"Mister Weasley will be happy to know that his car is still going."

A loud rustle drew their attention, followed by an odd chitter that almost sounded like some sort of demented laugh. Harry drew his wand and fired, the bolt of red light crashing against the trunk of a nearby tree. A green blur darted from the branches, leaping through the air in a graceful arc. The follow-up stunning charm missed by inches, and the creature vanished into the canopy within seconds.

"Damn. Quick buggers, aren't they?"

They moved on, navigating the dense foliage at a moderate pace. Soon enough, they were deeper than Harry had ever been in the forest and going deeper still. Hagrid now took the lead, knowing this area much more intimately. Harry kept a sharp eye out on his surroundings. The unusual silence persisted, but it would just be his kind of luck to get jumped by an Acromantula when he least suspected it.

Five minutes passed, then ten. The forest floor was covered in pine needles and broken branches, and the beginnings of a fine, rolling mist. The mist, more than anything else so far, put him on edge. He remembered well the unnatural mists that plagued the British Isles during Voldemort's second coming, because of the Dementors under his control. The temperature was much cooler, but not enough to herald the coming of those soulless wraiths.

"Here we are." Hagrid gestured forward and came to a stop next to a particularly large tree. The trunk was about five times as round as Hagrid and easily concealed the pair as they peered around.

There was a small clearing ahead, a rare break in the dense canopy, allowing the sun entrance. The mist sparkled under the beams of sunlight, giving the area an otherworldly look. Various plants grew in the clearing, colourful flowers and deadly weeds, both.

And scattered around, looking like discarded trash, was a multitude of belongings. Harry saw clothing, books, trunks and brooms, and that was only the beginning. The pieces of a suit of armour lay nearby, as well as a portrait that had seen better days, caked in mud and torn to shreds. There were goblets and silver trays, forks and knives, plates and all. He also spotted a couple of student desks, some chairs and weirdly enough, a sack of manure from Professor Sprouts greenhouse, identified by the label on the side. There was also a sword, imbedded in the ground like the legendary blade from the tales of King Arthur. It most likely belonged to the suit of armour.

"...what the hell? Did they raid the school or something?"

"Some of these things are old," Hagrid said softly. "But they are known to sneak into the school on occasion. Mind, it has been awhile."

They slowly moved into the clearing, idly looking through all the gathered items. Like Hagrid had said, some of the stuff was old - but some of it was rather new. Harry blinked as he spotted a pair of colourful shoes and he was reminded of Luna. Maybe this is where some of her belongings had ended up?

"Er - Harry?"

"Yeah, Hagrid?"

Harry looked towards his friend and then froze. That odd, chittering laugh sounded from all around them and Harry realised uneasily that they were surrounded on all sides. Perched in the trees were dozens of Clabberts, in an almost perfect ring. Their sharp teeth were exposed, gleaming maliciously.

All of a sudden, they didn't seem so harmless.

"Hagrid?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

Harry steadied his grip on his wand. "They don't look particularly happy, do they?"

Hagrid grunted.

All at once, they pounced, leaping from the trees with vicious snarls. They soared through the air, clawed hands out stretched as they prepared to attack. Hagrid moved far faster than his size would indicate possible, flinging his net at the closest group. Harry barely had time to see it expand and capture several of the creatures in one swoop when he was set upon.

Giving his wand a deft twirl, the closest ones to him all froze in mid-air, inches away from sinking their teeth into his flesh. They floated through the air lazily, completely immobile. The few not caught in his spell attempted to back away, landing awkwardly and scampering as quick as they could. He fired one, two - seven stunning charms in quick succession, dropping them like flies before they could escape.

A shrill screech drew his attention. Hagrid was grappling with one while two more were on his back, trying to tear into him unsuccessfully. Bashing the first one over the head with one his football-sized fists, he reached back and grabbed a second one by the face, slamming it into the ground head first. The third one tried to get away, but it wasn't fast enough - Hagrid wrapped it up in a crushing hug and then, without hesitation, body slammed it with his considerable weight. It didn't move again.

"Having fun?" Harry asked cheekily. Hagrid laughed. He was a little winded but otherwise fine. The group of Clabberts caught in his net were still struggling, but didn't seem to be making much progress in escaping. It had some nice enchantments on it, from the looks of it. "Nice net."

"Dumbledore made it for me," Hagrid smiled sadly. "Great man, Dumbledore."

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"You reckon we should take this stuff back to the castle?" he asked a few moments later, gesturing at all the stolen goods. Hagrid shrugged.

"I'll get the house elves to come get it - they'll love the chance to get out."

Opening his backpack, Harry reached over and grabbed the pair of colourful shoes. Giving them a quick inspection, he smiled at the name inscribed on the soles in bold bubble writing. Yeah, they were definitely Luna's.

A loud piercing roar forced Harry to cover his ears in alarm. He looked around wildly, searching for the origin of such a primal cry and froze. Emerging from the tree line was a massive creature with hulking muscles, hunched over and dragging its massive arms through the dirt. It was a Clabbert, but it was the biggest one Harry had ever seen - bigger than Hagrid, even hunched over, its skin a deep forest green and covered in vicious bone white spikes.

"What the fuck is that?" Harry shouted. Hagrid was eying the beast warily. "They aren't meant to get that big, are they?"

It snarled at them, teeth gleaming - and then, with incredible speed, it shoulder-charged Hagrid. The sound of flesh colliding was loud, and Harry watched in awe as the half-giant was flung away like a rag doll. The large man hit the ground with a groan, but he recovered quickly, dodging a swipe from the freakish beast and retaliating with a brutal haymaker. His knuckles cracked against the Clabberts head and it reeled back, momentarily stunned.

Harry fired off a stunning charm but it did nothing, splashing against its back harmlessly. It was much more spell resistant than its kin.

Hagrid lunged forward and attempted to wrap his massive arms around its head in a headlock so he could restrain it, but it slipped away, and with a mighty heave, grabbed the half-giant under the arms and suplexed him back over its shoulders. The ground shook from the force of the impact, but Hagrid was only dazed for a moment. Rolling to his feet, he gave a mighty bellow and launched himself forward, wrapping his opponent in a crushing bear hug. The creature thrashed wildly, flexing its massive muscles but Hagrid held on for dear life. The Clabbert head butt him once, twice - but before it could do it a third time, it was lifted off its feet and slammed into the ground with a bone shattering body slam.

Hagrid's nose was bloody, but he barely noticed as he wrapped one of his large hands around the creature's throat and squeezed. It bucked wildly, attempting to throw him off - but it was fruitless. Slowly but surely, it weakened - and then, with a shuddering gasp, it became still.

Harry remained silent as Hagrid regained his feet, watching as his friend wiped at the blood streaming from his nostrils. Without a word, he stepped over and gestured with his wand, resetting his nose with a crunch. Hagrid winced, and then smiled in thanks.

"You alright?" Harry asked. Hagrid nodded. He still looked a bit groggy, but was otherwise unharmed.

Rounding up all the unconscious or otherwise immobile frog-monkeys with a quick spell, he charmed them to float behind him. The large, muscular body of their leader followed suit.

"This enough of them?"

Hagrid gave a quick count. There were forty-five in all - plus one massive freak of magic.

"Tha' should be enough for now. Let's head back."

-x-**X**-x-

When Harry returned to the office, it was to the sight of Mundungus Fletcher shouting profanities from his position on the floor while Pansy goaded him with an air of superiority. The career criminal was bound by thick rope, from shoulder to knee. All his struggling got him was a sweaty brow and short breath, as well as Pansy's amusement.

"Let me outta here this instant, you bloody slag!"

Pansy gave a mocking laugh, toying with the captured wizard's wand. It rolled about on her desk from hand to hand. "You really should learn some manners."

"Pureblood bint! When I get outta here, I'll show you a thing or two, mark my words."

"I am simply terrified."

"Bitch!"

Pansy pinched her nose. "Do you _ever_ bathe? I can smell you from here."

Mundungus thrashed wildly and looked like a land bound fish. Harry was about to announce his presence when Kreacher beat him to the punch, exiting the kitchen with a tray of tea.

"Master Harry, welcome back - Kreacher found that filthy worm, as you requested."

Harry nodded, stepping inside. He hung his backpack on the coat rack, smiling at Pansy as he answered. "Thank you, Kreacher."

"You are too kind, sir - too kind, too kind. I have prepared tea and biscuits, Master - just as you like it."

The house-elf placed the tray on his desk, inadvertently knocking the vial of Aunt Marge onto the floor. It rolled around a bit and shuddered, but Harry wasn't too concerned. She wasn't getting out.

"Welcome back, Potter. How was the forest?"

"You!" the kidnapped wizard shouted. "I thought I recognized that blasted house-elf! What do you think you're doing, aye? Siccing your bleedin' elf on me all the time! It's harassment, that's what it is - bloody harassment."

Harry grinned somewhat sardonically. "The only reason you aren't in Azkaban is because of me, Fletcher. Mind your mouth."

The man clearly wanted to say something back but thought better of it, his mouth closing with an audible click of teeth. He settled for glaring at Pansy, which only made her smile even wider. Harry hummed.

"Thank you, Kreacher. You may go home now."

With a grand bow, the house-elf vanished. Pouring himself a cup of tea, he purposefully ignored Mundungus and focused intently on his cup. Taking a small sip, he smiled slightly at the impatient look been thrown his way.

"Did you get out at all, Pansy?" he asked his assistant, perching himself on the corner of her desk. Before he could react, she pulled his tea towards her and took her own sip, nodding in satisfaction. "Oi."

"That elf knows how to make a good tea."

"Yes, well - this is my tea. Get your own."

"My day was _splendid_, if you must know. And yes, I did go out. There were some small jobs right here in Hogsmeade, so I did those. Oh, and Millicent dropped by and had lunch with me. I hadn't seen her in awhile."

Harry nodded. "Bulstrode, huh? I haven't seen her in ages. What's she up to, these days?"

"Potter! Don't you ignore me, you ruddy git!" Mundungus yelled, squirming uncomfortably. "If you don't need me, untie me and let me go!"

"Oh," Harry said, turning. "Are you still here?"

"Of course I'm still here. I'm tied up! What the hell do you want?"

Harry eyed him carefully for a moment, before setting his tea aside. He ignored how quickly Pansy pulled it towards her, claiming it as her own. "Secondhand wands."

Mundungus stilled. "What about them?"

"I want to know who the big sellers are. I'm trying to track down where a particular wand came from."


	7. Chapter 7

Dudley Dursley lived in a perfectly ordinary house on a perfectly ordinary street, just as Harry suspected he would. That's where the similarities with Privet Drive ended, however.

The house was situated halfway down a long street. Each lawn was not trimmed and watered to perfection, and not everyone owned the latest car. There were children about, walking the streets and having fun with their friends, and nosy neighbours weren't peering out through their curtains, hoping to discover the latest gossip. Several yards looked well used, filled with toys and gardening equipment, and there was a steady stream of traffic that passed through.

It was a lively area. He liked it much more than his childhood neighbourhood already.

"Are you sure you want me to come with you, Harry? I don't want to impose."

Harry glanced at the woman by his side. She was dressed simply, in a pair of jeans, sneakers and a white summer blouse that suited her nicely. Her hair was tied back securely, but for a few wisps that tickled her cheeks. On appearance alone, no one could ever guess that she was a witch. She looked like an ordinary girl.

Exactly what he expected of Hermione.

"If I thought you were imposing, I wouldn't have invited you in the first place. Stop being silly."

She frowned at him in question. "Did you even tell your cousin that you would be bringing someone along?"

Harry shrugged, careful not to drop the package held under arm. It was of decent size and wrapped in bright pink wrapping paper. "He won't mind."

He was in a similar state of dress; jeans, sneakers, and a simple button-up shirt. Together, they looked like any other muggle couple.

"Why did you invite me, anyway? I'm not exactly a fan of your... relatives."

"Honestly? You are the only girl I know who can pass as a muggle without making a fool of themselves. No point in antagonising my aunt and uncle - at least, not today."

It was the truth. He had been planning on taking Luna Lovegood, as she so enjoyed going to places with him, but the girl was hopelessly magical. Luna couldn't pass as a muggle in a million years. Luna was considered odd, even by wizarding standards. Hermione was the best girl for the job, hands down.

There were several cars parked outside, no doubt belonging to various friends. Harry wondered if any of Dudley's old gang from primary school would be there. Were they still friends? That would be an interesting encounter. He hadn't thought about Piers Polkiss in years.

"Ready?" he asked, walking up to the door. Hermione nodded.

He knocked loudly, listening to the sound coming from the backyard. They were a little late, but that was on purpose. This was going to be awkward enough without turning up first.

After waiting a few moments, the door was answered by an attractive woman. She had long, rich brown hair and bright blue eyes. She looked momentarily confused, until her eyes drifted up and found his scar.

Harry blinked. He didn't expect that.

"Oh, hello! You must be Dudley's cousin, Harry - my name is Rachel, his partner. Please, come inside."

She beamed at him before walking forward and wrapping him in a firm hug. He had to stop himself from stiffening at the sudden contact. He hadn't been expecting that either. He forgot that muggles were much more touchy feely than wizards. They remained that way for a bit, before he responded.

"Uh - sure. I mean, yes. I'm Harry. Pleased to meet you - this is Hermione, a friend of mine."

They separated and Harry watched as Rachel then hugged Hermione while exchanging pleasantries. Her reaction to his scar was curious - until he realised that Dudley probably told her about it. Most people in the wizarding world noticed it because of what it represented, but he supposed that even if it had been just a normal scar, it was rather unique.

How many people had lightning bolt scars on their foreheads, after all?

"Who is at the door, dearie?" a familiar voice called. Aunt Petunia appeared suddenly, wiping her hands with a tea towel. She froze. "Oh."

"Aunt Petunia," Harry greeted, giving her a smile for appearance-sake. He rather doubted that they ever explained that their relationship with their nephew was, at best, rocky. "Have you met Hermione? I forget."

"Harry," she returned calmly, eyeing his friend warily. "We... haven't met."

"Oh," he said, shrugging. "I'm sure you saw her around at King's Cross when you used to pick me up."

"Don't worry," he assured his aunt when she continued to look panicked. Rachael had pulled Hermione inside, leaving the pair of them alone and free to talk about more sensitive topics. "She was raised as a muggle. Her parents are dentists, you see - a very noble profession, wouldn't you say?"

Petunia nodded slowly. "Yes, yes - very... normal."

"Well, then - where is Dudley? I better go say hello."

The house was well furnished and decorated for the occasion. Balloons and streamers hung from doorways and the ceiling, while party hats and various other knickknacks were placed around two tables. Children's laughter sounded from the backyard, and Harry spied a few older kids amongst them as he entered the kitchen, seven and eight year olds playing with the younger ones. The food was almost ready, the delicious aroma making Harry's mouth water.

Harry felt strangely excited.

He hadn't been to many birthday parties before - particularly muggle parties. All he could remember from his youth were the mountains of presents Dudley used to receive and that one time Harry accompanied his relatives to the zoo. Now that he thought about it, setting that snake free was one of his fonder memories from before Hogwarts.

He doubted Dudley felt the same way. He wondered if that snake ever made it to Brazil. He didn't think so, but stranger things had happened.

"Boy."

Harry tried not to smile but failed miserably. Vernon's name for him used to make him apprehensive, but now all it did was make him rather amused. He turned to face his uncle, giving him a quick once over with his eyes. Vernon was dressed sharply, in a pair of light pants and light blue polo that fit remarkably well considering his size.

"Uncle Vernon, how are you?"

Vernon looked like he wanted to throw out one of his customary insults - his favourite, Harry knew, was about his untidy hair - but knew not to be his usual hostile self in front of other regular folk. Instead, he took a quick sip from the can of beer he was holding, his moustache twitching. "Fine."

Harry nodded.

And that was that.

Harry quickly found a pile of presents and added his own to the mix before slipping outside, giving Hermione a wink as she was roped into helping prepare the food. She looked rather flustered, which was incredibly amusing. He knew Hermione could prepare meals with magic, but he wasn't sure how good she was at doing it the normal way. Knowing Hermione, she would be fine.

Dudley was easy to spot, talking with a group of friends. Piers Polkiss was in attendance, after all - though Harry didn't recognise the others. It looked like the rest of Dudley's gang was absent.

"Harry! Over here!"

Dudley introduced him to the ones he hadn't met and they all shook hands. Most of them worked with Dudley in construction, while a few only knew the Dursleys because their children attended the same daycare as Lily. Dudley looked a bit nervous when they asked him a few questions but he handled it easily enough, explaining that he worked for the government. That had made them a little twitchy, especially when he told them he couldn't go into too many details.

Piers eyed him warily but for an entirely different reason, unsure if he should extend his hand. Harry stared at him for a moment, before reaching out.

"Polkiss." Harry acknowledged, nodding. Piers slowly shook his hand.

"Potter."

And then Dudley showed him his niece. She was playing with the other kids, but she was very easy to spot. Her long red hair was very familiar and Harry almost expected her to have large green eyes like his own. Instead, she had crystal clear blue eyes, big and round and filled with youthful energy.

"Lily, come over here."

She skipped over with a grin, dressed in a cute light blue dress.

"Daddy!"

Harry unconsciously smiled as he watched father and daughter hug. Truth be told, it made him want to have a kid of his own to spoil.

"I want you to meet someone," Dudley explained, turning her towards Harry. "This is Uncle Harry - we grew up together. Say hello."

She gazed up at him shyly, trying to hide her face behind her hands. She looked absolutely adorable.

"Hello," she mumbled. Harry knelt down and pat her on the head, giving her a large smile.

"Hey there - your name is Lily?"

She lowered her hands, still shy but not wanting to hide from the nice man. She nodded cutely.

"That's a pretty name. My mum was called Lily as well."

She beamed at him and he pulled her into a quick hug, feeling a bit choked up.

_Get it together, man,_ he scolded, releasing her and sending her off to play. Dudley looked happier than he'd ever seen him, before giving him a serious look. Harry frowned, standing.

"What is it?"

Dudley struggled for a moment, before sighing. "She's one of you."

"Pardon?"

Harry looked dumfounded while Dudley just rolled his eyes.

"She has - _you know_."

"Oh."

Harry gazed out after his niece. She was playing with a boy who was a little older than her, helping him collect rocks from the garden. Another child joined in, until several of them were working together. It was such an innocent picture, something normal kids did in their childhood... something Harry rarely experienced. All of a sudden, Harry remembered that Dudley had invited him for more than just the party. He'd mentioned a favour.

"Do your parents know?" Harry questioned, feeling strange. "Have you told them?"

"Not yet - that's what I need help with."

Harry licked his lips. His mouth was strangely dry. "Does Rachel know?"

Dudley simply nodded.

"How'd she take it?"

"She was freaked out at first," he admitted, lowering his voice so no one else could overhear. "Lily made all her toys dance around the room. Near scared Rachel half to death. Near scared _me_ half to death. She thought our house was haunted. It took me a few hours to calm her down and explain that... our family had a history of such things."

"And she accepted that?" Harry asked sceptically.

Dudley shrugged. "Not completely, but it isn't the only thing Lily has done. Seeing is believing, yeah? I told her about you - that you could show her and explain."

Harry took a deep breath.

"I need a drink."

He was nursing his sixth can of beer when Hermione finally got away, sitting down next to him at a small garden bench he had claimed for himself. Rachel was calling the kids in and Harry could smell the delicious aroma of food wafting from the house.

"Are you okay?" she asked, eyeing the empty cans at his feet.

"I'm fine. Dudley just threw me a curveball, that's all."

He explained what he'd been told, that his niece was magical. Hermione looked delighted, beaming happily.

"That's wonderful - oh Harry, you must be so proud."

"You forget," Harry grunted, finishing his last can with a big mouthful. He then crushed it in his fist. "My relatives can't stand magic. This is going to be a disaster."

Hermione bit her lip, looking worried. "They wouldn't - surely they - even they would treat-"

"Her like family?" he cut in bitterly. He wasn't sure who was more surprised by his tone, Hermione or himself. "Like they treated me?"

His gut twisted at the thought. He wasn't worried about Dudley. He clearly loved his daughter and wouldn't treat her any differently. It was his aunt and uncle he was afraid of. Would they shun her like they shunned him? Lock her in a cupboard under the stairs and treat her like a house-elf? Harry knew he was being silly - she didn't even live with them - but he couldn't help but let his imagination run away with him.

"They better not!" Hermione said hotly. "Harry, you have to do something!"

He nodded, standing. "Let's go get something to eat. I'll talk to them later."

It turned out to be much later. He couldn't exactly confront the issue while there were so many muggles about, so after eating an early dinner, out the cake came and many other desserts. After that came presents - Harry's drew alarmed looks from his relatives until she opened it, revealing nothing extraordinary, just a few pretty dolls - then party games - he couldn't remember the last time he had seen pass the parcel - until suddenly, the sky was beginning to darken. Eventually, it was time.

Harry watched at Dudley and Rachel waved off the last of their guests before turning to his aunt and uncle.

"We need to talk." he said bluntly.

Vernon looked like he wanted to scoff, but after seeing how serious Harry looked, merely nodded instead.

Dudley entered the room, Lily fast asleep in his great big arms. He set her down on the couch, covering her in a blanket before facing his parents. Petunia glanced between them, surprised.

"What's going on?" she asked, frowning. Rachel seemed to realise what was about to happen and stood beside her fiancé, gripping his hand tightly. She looked slightly unsure, probably not fully understanding the tension that suddenly filled the room. Hermione was seated, nursing a glass of water - and even though she knew a little about his family history - she was looking extremely uneasy.

"Mum, dad," Dudley began, taking a deep breath. Harry felt nervous, sick to his stomach - he couldn't fathom how Dudley was feeling right now. "There is something I need to tell you - about Lily."

Vernon and Petunia looked bewildered.

"What is it, son?" Vernon asked.

Dudley appeared tongue-tied and it took him a few moments to choke out, "She's a witch."

Nobody dared move, nor make a sound. Vernon and Petunia stood perfectly still, staring at their son without emotion.

"What?"

It was Petunia that finally spoke, disbelief colouring her voice.

"She - She's like Harry. She has magic."

Vernon spluttered incoherently. "What is this nonsense? There is no way-"

"It's true," Rachel spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. She flushed slightly but continued, "She has done things - things that are impossible. Dudley explained to me about his aunt, about his cousin..."

"You!"

Harry blinked. Petunia was glaring at him. "What?"

"What did you-" she began, face twisted into a snarl. Even Vernon looked surprised at the sudden change, stepping away from her on reflex.

"I didn't do anything," Harry snapped, feeling like he was eleven again and being scolded. It wasn't pleasant. "What are you blaming me for?"

"You must have!" she shrieked, lowing her voice when Dudley hissed at her to be quiet, Lily was sleeping. "How else did she get infected-"

"Infected?" Hermione squawked, flying from her chair. She looked offended at the very thought of what Petunia was implying and her manners went right out the window. "It isn't a _disease_ you stupid woman-"

"Now see here!" Vernon bellowed, facing Hermione. "Don't you talk to my wife like that, missy!"

"It skipped a generation," Harry attempted to explain calmly, though his voice was definitely harsh. "Your sister was a witch, but you weren't. It missed Dudley but his daughter has magic. It isn't all that uncommon."

But that was the wrong thing to say.

She advanced on Harry angrily and Harry had to fight the urge to draw his wand, she looked so enraged. "How _dare you_ - _you nasty little boy_. I know you've done something, I know it!"

"How could I have?" he asked angrily. "I haven't even been around. Do you think I cast a spell from the other side of the country, just to mess with you?"

Dudley was watching everything with a pained expression, while his partner looked around at the growing argument in shock.

"-how you treated Harry-" Hermione was saying, her hair tumbling from her hair tie and giving her a mad look.

"-we vowed to stamp out that unnaturalness when we took him in-" Vernon countered, spittle flying from his mouth. "It was for the best of everyone-"

"-just like that _Snape_ boy must have done something to my sister! He just comes in and _steals her away-_"

"-you can't just _make_ someone magical, are you mad?" Harry shouted, losing his cool completely. "You are born with it, don't be stupid!"

"Then why did it skip me? _It isn't fair!_"

The room went silent.

For once in their lives, Vernon and Harry adopted the same look. They boggled at Petunia in disbelief, while she covered her mouth in horror. Hermione looked confused, as did Dudley and Rachel.

"P-Petunia?" Vernon questioned slowly.

Harry stared at her, eyes wide, only now realising what she had said before. "Stole her away? What..."

And then he remembered Snape's memories, the memories he had given Harry moments before his death. The memories he hadn't thought about since that day, for they were too sad and painful, full of regrets...

His aunt was jealous. Had always been jealous. Hadn't she written to Dumbledore, requesting entry to Hogwarts? Hadn't she been hurt when he politely declined?

"Hermione, can you take Rachel and Lily into the kitchen? I need to speak to my aunt, uncle and cousin alone."

Hermione hesitated, glancing at him in askance. He nodded seriously, face set. After the three of them left, Harry pulled out his wand. Vernon flinched, but he needn't have worried. Harry pointed it at the door and it sealed with a loud squelch.

"You wanted to be a witch," he began, staring at his aunt. She stepped back as if struck. "You even wrote to Dumbledore, didn't you?"

"How do you know that?" she asked, sounding defeated. Vernon was looking at his wife with wonder, while Dudley just looked confused. "There is no way - unless he told - ?"

It was too complicated to explain, so he nodded. A small lie. There was no harm in letting her think that Professor Dumbledore had told him. Telling her Snape had left him his memories would just confuse everyone.

"It was always about Lily," she whispered softly. "Our parents - they were delighted with having a witch in the family. What good could I do, next to her? I got good grades at school. I wasn't the top student, but I did well enough. And yet Lily could turn a chair into a dog. There was no contest."

She sounded drained, like all the fight had been sucked right out of her. Harry struggled to remain composed, because he saw a lot of himself in that expression she wore.

Old insecurities rose from the back of his mind, where he thought he'd hidden them forever. Why was Dudley allowed an ice cream for being good while all he got was nothing? Why did Dudley get presents on his birthday when he didn't even get a card?

...why did they love Dudley and not love him?

"Why did she get these powers, while I was nothing but a normal girl?" she asked aloud, unknowingly mirroring Harry's thoughts. "That boy - that _Snape_ - for the longest time, I blamed him, but-" she sighed tiredly.

"Petunia?" Vernon questioned softly while Dudley said, "Mum?"

"Like I said," Harry spoke up softly, no longer angry. He just felt tired. "You're born with it. You can't make someone magic - it just happens."

Petunia looked close to tears as she stared at her nephew. "H-Harry-"

He remembered the look on her face vividly. It was the same indecisive look she gave him as the Dursleys were forced to flee Privet Drive after his sixth year.

"If I hear you've mistreated Lily," he stated flatly, ignoring her as best he could. "You'll have to answer to me. Understand?"

Vernon fired up at once. "We would never treat her badly. She is-"

"Family?"

Vernon flinched as Harry calmly stared him in the face. Vernon then gathered himself and nodded briskly, glaring at his nephew as if daring him to say otherwise.

"Yes. Family."

On one hand, Harry was extremely relieved. No one ever deserved to go through what he had gone through with the Dursleys, growing up amongst a family that held no love for you. Lily would grow up with a loving mother and father, and - if Vernon was to be believed - with equally loving grandparents. They wouldn't treat her poorly for something she couldn't control.

But on the other hand...

Harry turned away, unsealing the door. "Thank you for inviting me. I'll write to you soon, Dud. I can help explain it better to Rachel. We can talk about..."

He waved his hand vaguely.

Dudley nodded, gazing at his cousin sadly. "Sure thing, Harry."

...on the other hand, it hurt. Knowing this family would love and support her, because she was family, when Harry had been family too, and...

Harry left the room and said his goodbyes to Rachel, gesturing at Hermione to follow. She looked worried, eyes glued to him as they exited the house and walked down the street. Harry didn't even realise they were holding hands until she was readying them to apparate. They were in a small park, behind a few wide trees that covered them from any prying eyes.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked softly, gazing up at him with tears in her eyes. He blinked at her in surprise, about to issue his usual 'I'm fine' but-

"Not really," he admitted truthfully. He grunted when she hugged him as tightly as she could. "But I will be."

They stayed that way for a moment longer, before Harry gently pushed her away.

"Let's go."

They vanished without making a sound.

Hogsmeade was dark when they arrived, the only activity coming from the various bars and pubs. They walked past Zonko's in silence, enjoying the cool evening air as they approached his home. He tapped the door knob twice with his wand and the door swung open quietly.

"Would you like some tea?"

Hermione smiled softly. "Sure."

It didn't take long, and soon enough they were seated on opposite sides of his desk, sipping piping hot earl grey. She was rather particular about her tea - unlike Harry - and only added lemon and not milk.

"I don't know how you drink it like that," she muttered, as he poured his milk. Harry rolled his eyes before drawing her attention away from the stressful last half-hour.

"So, I have some information for Ron - about that mysterious wand."

Hermione perked up noticeably, excited. "Have you found something?"

Harry took a carefully measured mouthful. "Nope."

She sagged, deflated. "Harry..."

He couldn't help but grin at the irritated look on her face. Harry knew how much Hermione loved a good mystery. Their school days had been filled with them.

"Mundungus has asked around, but no one remembers ever selling Trilly a wand. In saying that, they aren't exactly going to admit it, are they? Bad for business, that - backfiring wands. He doesn't seem to think they are lying, though."

"Ron hasn't had much luck either," Hermione admitted solemnly. "Are there other people you could ask?"

"Already have. Same results."

He'd even asked Alberforth if he'd heard anything about it. People tended to talk when plied with mead, but so far the brother of his late mentor hadn't heard a peep from his more shady patrons. Blaise hadn't heard anything either.

"What about any of Trilly's cases?" he asked, suddenly. "Did Ron get the case files?" Hermione nodded. "Is there anything unusual in any of them? Any threats? Strange occurrences?"

"He wasn't working on anything special - he busted a few warlocks for possession of banned substances a few days before his death, but that's all. They have been under watch ever since, they couldn't have given him the wand. The only case he worked recently that was a bit strange was with that boy dying in that terrible accident, over in Kent - did you hear about it?"

Harry frowned.

"Ron told me about it..." he trailed off, looking up at the ceiling quietly. Hermione noticed this, looking at him inquisitively. "A permanent sticking charm failed, if I recall..."

"That should be impossible; I couldn't believe it when Ron told me. If the spell was cast wrong, they wouldn't have stuck in the first place. It has everyone baffled, honestly." Hermione looked terribly vexed at this point, annoyed that she couldn't work out what had gone wrong. That didn't happen often.

"...something isn't right here," Harry murmured. "That's two freak accidents in a row - wait a second," he suddenly jumped up, sloshing tea down his front. Hermione looked at him in alarm. "Three freak accidents in a row - what are the chances?"

"I'm sorry?" she asked, perplexed. "Harry, you aren't making any sense-"

"The boy - the boy who died! He had a brother, went to Hogwarts with us, a few years down, in Hufflepuff. Ron told me. They had that memorial for him a few years ago, when he died - remember that? It was in the Daily Prophet."

"Of course I remember. They were related? But what..." she gazed at Harry, and he nodded as the pieces fell into place for her. "He drowned, didn't he?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but it wasn't just any drowning."

"That's right - he drowned in the bath!" she exclaimed, also jumping to her feet, but not before placing her tea on the desk gently. "You don't think these are all connected, do you? I mean, what is the common theme?"

"All three deaths are freak accidents," Harry began quickly, excited. "And we know they've all visited that house. The two boys lived there, and Trilly went there after the second accident. But what about the parents? Or the other Ministry wizards who were dispatched to the crime scene? They are fine, as far as I know."

"They didn't find anything out of the ordinary, either," Hermione added, wracking her brain furiously. "They didn't detect any dark magic and no dark items were recovered. This doesn't make any sense, Harry."

They both stared at each other, thinking hard.

"We still don't know where Trilly got that wand," Harry said slowly. "If we could just find out where he got it..."

Hermione suddenly gasped. "What if... Harry, what if he found that wand at the house where those boys died?"

"It's possible - but why would he take it? Why wasn't it in his notes? Trilly was never the dodgy sort, to steal something from a crime scene isn't like him."

But what if? Now that the idea had been voiced by Hermione, it didn't want to leave his mind. Harry fixed them both another cup of tea as they both mulled over the possibility.

"If the wand _was_ there, then who did it belong to?" Hermione asked, nursing her second cup. She watched as Harry removed the stain on his shirt and continued when he had finished cleaning himself. "No one ever reported a missing wand and the younger brother was too young to own one himself, so... maybe it belonged to the other boy, the one who drowned. I can't remember his name..."

"Aren't wizards normally buried with their wands?" Harry asked, recalling several of the funerals he had attended after the war. They had all been buried with their wands, though they had died fighting.

"Not always. Sometimes wands are passed down."

Harry remembered Neville, using his father's wand - and Ron, who hadn't had his own wand until third year, after breaking his old one.

"And even though all three deaths were accidents, one didn't even involve magic," Harry groused. "He drowned."

They were going in circles.

"Well now," said a snide voice, causing Hermione to shriek in surprise. Harry nearly spilled his tea for the second time, but managed to save it. He looked around wildly. "Maybe if you two are finished, you could let a wizard sleep in peace."

Phineas Nigellus Black glared at them from his portrait.

"Oh! Professor Black - what are you doing here?" Hermione asked earnestly. "Did Harry move you from Grimmauld Place?"

"Indeed."

"He watches the office for me," Harry explained, grinning when Phineas grumbled about being reduced to such a common purpose. "Where have you been, anyway? I hardly ever see you in the frame."

"I appear only at night. You have your assistant to keep an eye on things during the day, Potter." Phineas declared pompously, glancing to the side. "I came across a little early, hoping to sleep undisturbed - I should have known better."

"Why not sleep at Hogwarts?"

"Headmistress McGonagall is busy scolding a group of troublemakers," he explained, looking extremely annoyed. "They set off dungbombs in the middle of dinner." He was clearly unimpressed by such childish behaviour.

The serious atmosphere of their previous discussion had vanished, and Harry watched as Hermione checked the time on her small muggle watch. Harry carefully set his cup of tea aside.

"I better go."

"I'll keep looking into the wand," Harry mentioned as he showed her to the fireplace. He quickly lit the fire with a flick of his wand as Hermione dipped her hand into the pot of Floo Powder on the mantle. "Tell Ron what we discussed; he might want to go talk to the parents if he can get time. I think I'll try to track down some of the older brother's friends. If he owned a second wand, they might know something about it."

He hoped they knew something about it. Because if they didn't, they were back to square one.

-x-**X**-x-

**Syaoran: **Sorry about the long ass wait. I've been away for awhile and then after that, the chapter was complete on DLP but I just hadn't got around to posting it on here. I'm lazy like that.

This chapter is much more serious than normal and... yeah. It was a bit of a struggle to write, really. Back to whacky jobs and whatever in the next chapter, and probably the continuation of the missing wand saga.


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